Cause and Effect
by RonaldWeakling
Summary: Harry being raised at the Dursleys causes him to despise strangers and become accustomed to only trusting himself. When he goes to Hogwarts, he will not be the innocent and naive little boy Dumbledore expects. No pairing decided yet, and the pic is of how I wish David Thewlis had looked during the movies.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

 **Author's Note - This is the first chapter of my very first fanfic ever written. I want things to seem realistic, so I'm trying to stay fairly true to the books. Updates will be sporadic, as I'm busy with art and computer technology.**

Privet Drive was a plain and completely ordinary-looking neighborhood located in Little Whinging, Surrey. The houses consisted of the same repetitive two-story home fixed with a small lawn, perfectly rectangular driveway, and every one severely lacked any personality whatsoever. The locals all seemed to follow in that regard, living by their unchanging routines and rarely having to deal with anything outside the realm of their mundane lives. So it was, late at night on the cold evening of November 1st, that Privet Drive unknowingly played host to something- unusual.

The air was cool and everything was dark. The street lights were curiously absent of their usual dim amber glow of light. No one appeared to be awake except for an oddly dressed couple slowly making their way down the deserted street. They both wore long flowing robes with matching cloaks dyed muted purple and emerald green respectively.

"Are you certain you wouldn't like a lemon drop, Professor McGonagall?" The old man popped a small yellow candy into his mouth and held a paper bag out to his companion. His long silver hair and beard rustled slightly.

"Albus Dumbledored! The Potters are slain, Voldemort is finally dead, and all you can think about are muggle candies?" Professor McGonagall asked exasperatedly. Her square frame glasses and tight bun enhanced her stern expression.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Forgive me for trying to lighten the mood, my dear." Dumbledore said, blue eyes twinkling madly behind crescent moon-shaped spectacles.

They stopped in front of a house with an immaculately kept garden. Dumbledore glanced down at his silver pocket watch. "Hagrid's late."

"Hagrid? Just what are up to, Albus?"

"Harry must be raised with his only living relatives, the current residents of number four Privet Drive." Dumbledore stated, gesturing at the house in front of them.

"You must be joking!" Professor McGonagall said, scandalized. "Lily does have a sister, but when she's not spying on the neighbors she's letting her insufferable child walk all over her! They're nothing alike! How on earth could you let the Potters' son live here?"

"This is his only option." Dumbledore said gravely. "This letter will ensure that they tell Harry everything when he's ready."

"A simple letter will not be enough to teach muggles the concept of magic and what Harry Potter means to the wizarding world." scoffed Professor McGonagall. "Let me send an owl to Amelia, she's already got experience in raising an orphaned child. At the very least she'd know of some decent families who are good at being discreet, even I have a cottage in Scotland I could take him and -"

"Minerva, please," Dumbledore's eyes had stopped twinkling. "Harry needs to be with his own flesh and blood and unfortunately that's all I can tell you. Have I ever steered you wrong before?"

"I - I - suppose not," Professor McGonagall allowed grudgingly. She looked anxious. "Where is the child now? You said Hagrid was late, surely you don't mean..."

"Hagrid will be bringing Harry, yes."

"The man doesn't even have a wand! How could you give him a task as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life." said Dumbledore firmly.

"Trust is all well and good Albus," Professor McGonagall shook her head slightly. "But Harry vanquished Voldemort only last night. All those vile Death Eaters of his are still out there and Hagrid can't even cast a basic Stunner."

A low rumbling noise saved Dumbledore from having to reply. A large red motorcycle appeared out of the sky and screeched loudly on the pavement as it slowed to a halt.

"Let's hope that racket didn't wake up the whole of the neighborhood." Professor McGonagall muttered under her breath.

If Dumbledore heard her he didn't show it, and instead welcomed the giant who stepped off the bike with a small bundle of blankets held snugly in one arm.

"At last, Hagrid you've come," Dumbledore said. His eyes twinkled again. "Where did you get the motorcycle?"

"Sirius Black lent it, ser. An' I've got 'arry right 'ere."

"Everything went as planned, I take it?" Dumbledore glanced at Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, ser. The house was a right wreck, but I got 'im out, an' been flying ever since. Fell asleep as we passed Bristol, 'e did." Hagrid said.

Dumbledore nodded, while Professor McGonagall was left wondering how on Earth it could take Hagrid an entire day to fly from Godric's Hollow to Privet Drive.

 _Perhaps he stopped for a few 'refreshments' along the way._ McGonagall thought bitterly.

Dumbledore looked at the face of the small child and Professor McGonagall walked closer.

"Sadly, he'll have that scar forever." Dumbledore said as she joined him.

"Can't it be dealt with in some way?" Professor McGonagall reasoned. "No child would want such a dreadful reminder of their parents' death stuck on their forehead permanently. Perhaps a concealment charm of some sort, any witch or wizard would recognize him immediately on sight."

Dumbledore shook his head and sighed heavily. "It would be extremely foolish to tamper with such a thing. Who knows what could happen if we threw magic at the curse scar left over from Voldemort's killing curse? Besides, scars can be immensely valuable in the right circumstance you know. Now Hagrid, if you please, it's best to get this over with."

Hagrid reluctantly handed the bundle to Dumbledore. The old wizard walked to the front door with Harry in his arms, leaving Professor McGonagall to deal with Hagrid's loud sobbing howls. He laid Harry down on the steps with a letter he pulled out from his robes. Dumbledore waved his wand a few times over the bundle, casting spells to keep it warm, still, and invisible to any but the sleeping occupants of Number 4. He walked back to the others.

"Everything is in place. You two should go and join the celebrations."

"Thank yeh ser, but Sirius will be needing this bike back. Good night Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, ser." said Hagrid sadly.

The huge man lumbered to the bike, started the engine, and soon disappeared into the sky.

"There's a bottle of Scotch I need to consult," Professor McGonagall said, dabbing her eyes. "Privately, I might add. Prancing about and celebrating on an awful day like this is not high up on my list of things to do."

"I understand, Minerva," Dumbledore said.

She did not reply, as a tabby cat had appeared in her stead and was already briskly moving down the dark street. Dumbledore pulled out a silver lighter and returned the streetlights to their proper forms. He took one last look at the child on the doorstep and with a swish of fabric he was gone.

 **Author's Note - Fixed some small grammatical errors and edited some prose - June 15**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Chessington World of Adventures actually exists in real-life Surrey. Harry mentions he's never been to London before, so it can't be the London Zoo. I took some poetic license by adding the reptile house, however.**

"Boy! Get up now!" A shrill voice screeched, followed by the horrible sound of knuckles meeting wood in quick succession. "Up!"

Startled and barely cognizant, a thin boy with messy jet-black hair and bright green eyes slowly woke. Everything was dark and blurry. His body was sore and stiff from laying for hours on a thin, ratty mattress. The air was musty and smelled strongly of old wood. Small spider webs were strung among the corners of the confined space under the stairs and a thin sheen of dust covered nearly everywhere else. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, the boy reached behind his head and fumbled with the few objects on the shelf behind him. A few lead soldiers, broken crayons, the small corpse of a spider, and lastly a pair of sad-looking wire-frame glasses which he grabbed. The prescription was wrong, the lenses were scratched and blotchy, and the beaten-up frame was taped around the middle to keep from splitting in two. With a small sigh, the boy futilely rubbed the lenses with the worn blanket on his bed and placed them on his face. He sat quietly for a few seconds trying to recall the dream he was having when the sound of sharp high heels approaching distracted him.

"Are you up yet?" The shrill voice was back.

"Yes." the boy said.

"Well then, quit lazing about and take care of breakfast! Don't you dare ruin it either, you know what day it is."

The heels clicked away and the boy was awake enough now to hear the clanking of dishes in the kitchen. He had forgotten today was his cousin's birthday, and as usual he would be expected to be on his best behaviour. The boy grabbed a few of the cleanest-looking clothes from a small pile on the end of his bad that were obviously meant for a body 3 sizes bigger. Dressing as easily as he could in the cramped little room, the boy finally pushed against the door and stumbled out into the bright blue hallway. He looked over his shoulder at the interior of his cupboard, eyes drawn to a part of the wall now exposed in the light. Written in red crayon in a child's messy scrawl, the words 'Harry's Room' were legible. With a shake of his head and a slam of the cupboard door, Harry Potter walked to the kitchen of Number 4, Privet Drive.

Immediately upon entering, Harry's nose smelled a delicious aroma that made his mouth water. The kitchen table groaned under a small mountain of brightly-wrapped boxes of all sizes. The angry woman in heels fussed over the stove. Thin eyebrows, pursed lips, and narrowed eyes gave her a critical and unwelcoming expression. Harry's movement at the kitchen entrance directed that unwelcoming expression at himself and a plastic spatula was shoved in his hands.

"Finish these eggs and then start the bacon and sausages. He'll be here any minute. Make it perfect!" She swiftly walked to the table and attempted to set the plates and cutlery on the small space left by the mass of gifts.

Rolling his eyes and taking position in front of the sizzling pan, Harry easily fell into the familiar task. Preparing not only breakfast, but lunch and dinner as well, was something he was made to do from a very young age. It took many failures that resulted in long nights locked in his cupboard without dinner, but Harry had managed to wrap his head around the basic processes of food preparation, something his relatives happily exploited. Out of all the tasks on his never-ending list of chores, cooking was easily Harry's favourite. It was easy to forget about his life while getting lost in the preparation of the ingredients and the satisfaction of seeing the final results made it fun. The only downside was Harry could rarely taste his own cooking as he was typically fed the cheapest foods available.

Harry was halfway done with the bacon when his cousin entered the kitchen. Dudley Dursley, son of Petunia and Vernon Dursley, was someone Harry privately hoped would sleep in today. The fat boy waddled to his seat at the table, watery blue eyes gauging the present pile. Harry set to finish with the breakfast as fast as possible before his little pig of a cousin could get him in trouble this early in the day. Quickly turning off the gas, dabbing the greasy food with a towel, and loading everything onto a heavy platter, Harry quickly made his way to the table before his cousin could scream at him to hurry up. Dudley began shouting at Aunt Petunia but Harry was too busy getting the breakfast ready to pay attention.

Harry placed the huge platter and a plate with toast and fruit into the space Aunt Petunia had cleared and began loading food onto the four plates. Dudley did not comment, as he was too busy still studying the presents. Taking a seat, Harry was annoyed at the fact that he rushed for naught. Dudley was still too pre-occupied with his presents and hadn't even glanced at the food.

"Thirty-seven then!" Dudley said loudly. His pink face went several shades redder and he flung some eggs on his plate. Aunt Petunia sighed with relief.

Harry had missed whatever conversation had happened between Dudley and Aunt Petunia. He guessed it was something to do with Dudley being a spoiled brat and the already insane amount of presents not being good enough for him. Since he was allowed a small portion of the good food on days like this, Harry wasted no time in digging into his cooking.

Glancing up between mouthfuls of egg, Harry heard his aunt mention to Dudley that two more gifts would be purchased later in the day. He deftly grabbed an extra piece of toast while his cousin slowly registered what she said. Uncle Vernon stomped in loudly and showered his son with praise for 'wanting his money's worth'. Harry snuck some slices of apple this time.

"Takes after his father, he does." Uncle Vernon said, proudly ruffling his son's blond hair.

Harry privately agreed. In his opinion, Dudley and Vernon were both overweight lumps without any visible redeeming qualities. Uncle Vernon however, was a taller and larger lump with a bushy walrus mustache that Harry thought looked horrendous. Harry wondered if he could manage to steal any more food when the telephone rang. Aunt Petunia got up quickly to answer it while Uncle Vernon ate and Harry watched Dudley open his presents. He snorted quietly as Dudley unwrapped an extremely expensive-looking racing bike (that will go straight into the garage to collect dust). His musing was interrupted when Aunt Petunia slammed the phone down loudly.

"Mrs. Figg can't make it," She sniffed . "Her broke her leg and she can't take him. She probably tripped over her freaky cats in that smelly house of hers."

Uncle Vernon looked furious and Dudley's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Harry had decidedly mixed feelings. Mrs. Figg always seemed weird to Harry but he still found her company to be infinitely more enjoyable. Her house smelled of cabbage and crawled with a dozen strange cats, but it was Dursley-free and he loved it for that fact alone. Harry truthfully was sorry to hear that Mrs. Figg broke her leg, being no stranger to physical injuries himself, but he also felt quite pleased at the idea of 'Dudder's special day' being slightly dampened with his presence.

"We could leave him with Marge." Uncle Vernon said hesitantly.

Aunt Petunia scoffed.

"That'll never work and you know it."

"What about that Frenchie friend of yours, Yvette?"

"Yvonne," Aunt Petunia snapped at Uncle Vernon. "Who I told you last week was on holiday in Majorca."

"Or maybe you could just leave me here." Harry cut in sarcastingly, unable to resist. "You know, like a normal family would do?"

Now Aunt Petunia turned to Harry with a contemptuous glare.

"You, alone in this house?" She looked down her nose and laughed at him. "You are neither normal or a part of our family, so don't presume to lecture at us like you are."

"Why would I destroy the house where I sleep?" Harry asked, clenching his fists under the table. His question was left unanswered as the adults weren't interested in what he had to say anymore.

"We could leave him in the car when we get there." Aunt Petunia said after a moment of silence.

"And have him blow that up too?" Uncle Vernon shot back. "The car is brand new and he'll not be left on his own..."

Uncle Vernon trailed off at the sound of Dudley's loud fake crying. Just as Harry had developed culinary skills, Dudley had developed his in acting. Years of fake tantrums and learning which buttons to push resulted in Dudley being able to easily manipulate people like his parents in a matter of seconds.

"Oh, my sweet baby Duddydums! Mummy won't let him spoil your big day." Aunt Petunia rose to the bait as expected and made a show of rushing over to her son and wrapping him in her embrace.

"I d-don't want him to come!" Dudley whined. "He always ruins everything!"

Over his mother's shoulder, Dudley grinned evilly across the table at his cousin. Harry smiled back politely, controlling his anger by imagining all the ways he could sabotage Dudley's birthday outing. His favorite involved locking Dudley in with his hippopotamus brethren. A loud and resonating chime from the doorbell pierced the air and Harry stopped imagining Dudley walking around on all fours and chewing long grass.

"They're here!" Aunt Petunia shrieked as she flinched away from Dudley.

In walked the rat-faced boy, Piers Polkiss, with his mother. Dudley perked up immediately at the sight of his friend while Harry scowled. The majority of his experiences involving Piers were of him holding victims like Harry down as Dudley pounded on them. The others consisted of the pair and the rest of Dudley's little gang chasing Harry around the neighborhood in their favourite sport 'Harry Hunting'. The teachers at Harry's school called home once but Uncle Vernon told them Harry constantly provoked them and he would straighten the lot of them out later. This resulted in an increase of disapproving frowns from the faculty directed at Harry and Dudley learned to be more careful in finding ways to antagonize Harry.

Aunt Petunia greeted Mrs. Polkiss politely and suggested Dudley and Piers wait in the car for the adults. With a pointed look at Uncle Vernon, she led Mrs. Polkiss to the sitting room, probably hoping to get a bit of gossip in before the trip. After Dudley and Piers left, Uncle Vernon got up and roughly grabbed Harry by his large shirt. He lead him into the hallway. He bent down to meet Harry's eyes and thrust a purple sausage finger in his face.

"This is your only warning, boy," Uncle Vernon threatened in a low whisper. "If I spot any freakish behaviour of yours… even just for a second… you won't see the light of day until Christmas!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said. He would tell the man whatever he needed to hear in order to get that large sweaty hand out of close proximity. "I won't do anything at all."

"You'd best hope not."

With a grunt, Uncle Vernon turned away from his nephew and walked out the front door. Harry was left alone in the hallway with his mind left to reflect on the 'freakishness' his Uncle was worried about. There was the time Aunt Petunia got fed up with taking Harry to the local barber shop only to find his hair unchanged after every visit. His un-tamable hair had become a running joke around Privet Drive and his image-conscious Aunt took matters into her own hands. With a pair of simple kitchen scissors, she managed to make Harry entirely bald except for a bit of jagged locks left to cover the red lighting bolt scar on his forehead. It looked absolutely hideous and after a whole day of Dudley laughing and jeering, Harry lay in bed dreading how he'd be ridiculed at school. When he walked into the kitchen the next day with a full head of hair, the Dursleys locked him in the cupboard for a week.

Harry was called a freak when ugly sweaters shrunk every time Aunt Petunia tried to force them over his head, when rude teachers mocked him in class and found their hair turned a bright blue, and when the injuries from Dudley's gang healed mysteriously overnight. Out of all of them, the thing he found the strangest was the time he somehow appeared on the school roof after being cornered by Dudley and his pals during recess. The principal assumed Harry was a no-good troublemaker and sent the Dursleys a scathing letter, which resulted in another week in the cupboard with no supper. Harry learned quickly after every incident that despite his attempts to defend himself, his Aunt and Uncle would never believe he had done nothing wrong.

At first he had been angry and hurt, but after spending countless hours lying in the dark with time to think, he finally accepted that there was nothing he could do to make the Dursleys like him. He grew to hate them instead and had trouble controlling his emotions when they were especially infuriating, but he absolutely refused to let them win. Harry decided to bide his time and develop what skills he could until the day he'd be old enough be leave them forever. Hearing the conversation Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Polkiss draw to a close, Harry quickly walked out the front door and crawled into the back seat of the gleaming Vauxall Chevette.

When the silver hatchback pulled into the parking lot of Chessington World of Adventures, Harry was initially relieved. Having to spend half an hour listening to his Uncle rant about the teens who hung around smoking outside his office and drone on about some newly-released drill bits was awful. On top of that, his Aunt commented scathingly on the appearance of every pedestrian she saw while Dudley and Piers took turns sniggering and poking him in the ribs. When Harry looked out the window as Uncle Vernon pulled into an empty parking space and saw just how busy the zoo could be on a Saturday, what little hope he had left was squashed. Thanks to his upbringing with the Dursleys and his horrible experiences with practically every person he met, Harry loathed being around strangers, especially large crowds of them.

"Hurry up, boy!" Aunt Petunia's hissing snapped him out of his thoughts.

Harry scurried out of the vehicle and ignored his Aunt's impatient glare. He followed the group as they weaved through the sea of parked cars towards an ice cream van near the entrance. Uncle Vernon happily purchased Dudley and Piers large triple-scoop cones of chocolate ice cream, which they greedily and loudly licked in front of Harry. Aunt Petunia tried to block Harry from view but the friendly-looking serving girl spoke up anyways.

"And what'll you be having, dear?"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon froze. They opened their mouths to try and save face when Harry beat them to it.

"Thank you ma'am, but I don't eat ice-cream."

The girl looked surprised and curiously looked at his Aunt and Uncle. They laughed forcefully and mumbled something about 'kids these days', while guiding Harry away. It wasn't a lie, however. Years of watching Dudley turn into a bowling ball with legs as he pigged out on larger and larger amounts of sugary foods had made whatever cravings Harry had for sweets disappear. His meals mainly consisted of leftover vegetables that his cousin and uncle wouldn't touch which geared his taste buds towards natural foods. Harry was quite thin for his age but adapted to nights without supper by hiding bits of raw ingredients like asparagus, cheese, and mixed nuts in his baggy clothes while preparing meals. His relatives liked to pretend he didn't exist and ignored him while he cooked so Harry learned to benefit from their ignorance. The exercise he got from sprinting away from Dudley's gang on a daily basis helped to diminish his appetite (not that Dudley could run for very long, anyway) and made him fall asleep faster at night. Harry wished he could eat his fill when he wanted to but consoled himself with the fact that unlike the Dursley males, he did not look like he belonged in a pig pen.

At the ticket booth, Dudley and Piers were given coloured stamps on the back of their hands that allowed them all-day access to every venue and ride at the resort. Not wanting to make the trip the least bit enjoyable for Harry, but finding no other available options, the Dursleys gave him the cheapest stamp that confined him to the animal area. Unknowingly, the Dursleys had done the exact opposite of what they intended because Harry's spirits rose upon arriving at the Chessington Zoo. Most of the parents took their kids to the flashy rides, games, and live shows, leaving the areas around the animals much emptier. Harry was told not to look anyone in the eyes and to not come find them under any circumstances. He was finally alone and he loved every second of it.

Hours later, Harry easily decided this was the best day of his life. With a newfound freedom he had never before experienced, he wandered around at his leisure and could completely forget about life with the Dursleys. Harry saw monkeys, penguins, giraffes, lions, exotic birds, and even a furry little creature he'd never heard of before called a capybara. He was still on edge and suspicious with the unfamiliar people around him but it was loads better than being stuck with his relatives all day. They had gone so far as to give him some lunch money ahead of time, which Harry was extremely glad for. Being able to choose what he ate for once, he enjoyed a delicious chicken and avocado sandwich on rye bread and a cold bottle of water. Tossing the trash, Harry decided to go the reptile house now that most families were busy eating their lunch. He wanted to save it for last as it would have been too uncomfortable trying to appreciate everything with loud children crowded around him.

The building itself was an attractive-looking brick structure with a large sign in front of a cartoony grinning lizard. It a dark reddish brown apart with an aged, cream-coloured stone entrance way. Two oddly-shaped trees Harry didn't recognize stood on either said. He walked inside and blinked as he adjusted to the lower lighting. Looking at the different signs on the wall, Harry thought the snakes would be a good place to start. The snake room was dark green with a low ceiling and multiple glass enclosures lined the walls.

It was quite warm, the tanks were well-lit, and mounted plaques of varying sizes described every exhibit. It was thankfully empty, but most of the snakes were invisible among the dense foliage in their tanks. Except for an enormous, chestnut-coloured snake lounging in plain view, which immediately caught Harry's attention. Upon closer inspection Harry read that it was a boa constrictor and a whopping seven feet long. It had beautiful, shiny scales decorated with intricate shapes and patterns of light and dark browns. He felt sympathetic for the snake. He understood being kept in a small space all day. Unlike him, it could never leave and everyday had dozens of people crowding around and watching its every move. Harry shuddered at the thought. Currently, the snake was snug and still atop a pile of soft vines and leaves. Harry couldn't help but think it looked rather cute.

As if reading his mind, the snake lifted its head, tongue flickering and adjusted itself to meet Harry's eyes. It winked. Harry rubbed his eyes and stared incredulously at the snake. No, it definitely was looking right at him, and with the other eye this time it winked again. Harry nervously walked away slowly from the glass, thoughts racing. Didn't one of his school books say that snakes had no eyelids? How could it blink? Was this his freakishness acting up again?

"No need to make a fussss."

Harry spun around wildly, nervousness shooting even higher as he frantically looked for the source of the hissing voice. The room was still empty and the snake was still staring at him. Was it… smirking? His eyes widened slowly as a thought struck him.

"Yess," The snake's mouth moved in accordance with the voice, stretching out all the s's. "I ssspeak, and you lisssten."

Harry nodded dumbly. "Um, right then. I think I've been out in the sun a lot today, and it's getting late-"

"Your sssensssesss are functioning adequately, little human."

Harry pinched himself, just to make sure. The snake flicked his tongue.

"I -I guess they are." Feeling a bit silly, Harry ran his hand through his hair and remembered his manners. "My name is Harry, pleased to meet you Mister... ah.."

"The human sslaves call me Rigginss."

Harry blinked once, then twice. He licked his lips and nodded his head some more. Riggins the seven foot long boa constrictor. Why was he even still surprised at this point?

"Well, what do _you_ call yourself?" Harry asked the snake.

Riggins flicked his tail at his designated bronze plaque. The upper part of it read 'Brazillian boa constrictor, raised in captivity.'

"'Rigginss' iss all I've known. My own kind would have named me if I wass in the wildss, and I ssee no point in doing sso mysself."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, and he was. "I know what it's like to be stuck in an awful place without your family."

The Dursleys, save Uncle Vernon, were his relatives by blood but as Aunt Petunia had kindly pointed out this morning, they would never ever be his family. The unlikely pair of boy and snake said nothing as they shared a pleasant companionable silence. Suddenly, the boy in question found himself shoved hard onto the cold stone floor and a familiar figure stood in his spot.

"DUDLEY! LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Piers, being the quiet and sneaky type had gotten the jump on Harry while he was distracted. A minute later, Dudley came waddling into sight, approaching them as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. Harry, whose glasses had fallen off, glared up at the obnoxious boys and watched them press their faces as close as they could to the glass. This time, he felt it happen. Something he hadn't noticed building up inside him until now, released itself all at once towards the wall of glass of Riggins' tank. Piers and Dudley, who had been laughing and making stupid faces, found themselves falling forward into the lair of Riggins when the glass disappeared.

Riggins, seizing the opportunity, slithered onto the floor while Piers and Dudley shrieked and tangled in the vines. When the last of his long body had exited his former prison, the glass returned. The snake turned to face his rescuer.

"Thankss. Brazil, here I come."

With one last wink, the snake slid away. Harry couldn't help but smile as he watched it slithered down the hallway. Knowing his fate was sealed when his Aunt and Uncle would arrive looking for everyone, Harry leisurely sat back and enjoyed the sight of the new inhabitants of the snake pen stand up soaked and covered in dirt and leaves. Dudley and Piers screamed and banged on the glass to no avail. Harry's smile shifted into a wide grin. If Dudley couldn't be with the hippos, Harry would gladly take what he could get.

 **A/N 2 - Just tweaked a bit of the wording and corrected some errors - June 15**


	3. Chapter 3

The ride back to the Dursley's was tense and silent. Uncle Vernon's face was still a deep purple and a vein on his forehead was twitching, while Aunt Petunia was white as a sheet. Harry cut them some slack however as finding their son and his friend trapped in the boa constrictor's tank would have been shocking to say the least. The Dursleys immediately alerted the keeper of the reptile house and later drew the attention of the manager of Chessington World of Adventures himself. They thought the Dursleys were joking and decided to play along at first.

They completely changed their tune when they saw the boys for themselves however and closed the park early due to the threat of a missing boa constrictor (and also to avoid any other witnesses). Both parties wanted this kept quiet and to be over as quickly as possible, so the Dursleys were given some money. After waiting for the glass to be removed Vernon and Petunia reunited with a shaking Dudley and a twitching Piers wrapped in fluffy green towels. It was all Harry could do to not burst out laughing at the sight of them.

When they arrived back at the Dursley household, Petunia went to the phone dreading having to deal with Piers' mother on top of everything else. Dudley and Piers rushed upstairs to his bedroom and Uncle Vernon pulled Harry aside.

"I warned you boy, but you just couldn't listen, could you?" The man was in such a rage his hands were shaking. "Get in your cupboard!"

Harry entered the dark cupboard and fell onto his mattress, relieved but tired. He had never seen his Uncle that out of control before and wasn't sure what that would mean for him. The lock clicked and he heard Uncle Vernon make his way into the kitchen, most likely to fix himself a drink. Harry knew that he'd be stuck in the cupboard for a long while but he was glad for once. His anger at being pushed aside by Piers was stronger than usual, and allowed himself to actually remember the feeling of whatever it was that allowed the glass to disappear. Now that he was alone, he wanted to try something.

Sitting up straight on his bed, Harry held his arm outwards with his palm facing upwards. He closed his eyes and focused on that weird but exhilarating feeling, and channeled his pent-up hatred from the years with the Dursleys.

 _Light,_ Harry thought in his mind. _Show me some light._

He opened his eyes and was disappointed to see that nothing had happened.

 _I can do this,_ Harry told himself _. I've done lots of freakishness before, I can do this._

He repeated the steps and opened his eyes once more. The cupboard was still dark. He heard a car door slam, most likely Piers's mother coming to collect her rat-er, son.

 _Maybe I'm going about it the wrong way. Is anger the best emotion_?

Harry thought back to every instance where something freakish had happened. In every scenario he was either afraid, angry, or both and the situation was always stressful. Perhaps the strange ability he seemed to possess was like a wild animal. It would burst out when the need was strong enough, but was harder to coax out otherwise. However, a wild animal could be tamed with patience and positive reinforcement.

Harry breathed in deeply, shut his eyes and held out his hand again. He imagined the strange feeling emanating throughout his body, and then remembered how happy he was when he arrived at the reptile house and met his first true friend. The only being he could actually relate to and understood what it was like to be a loner.

 _Light._

This time he felt the rush and didn't even have to look to know it worked. A small white light was floating above his palm, illuminating every inch of his cupboard. It shifted slightly, and it filled Harry with a decidedly smug satisfaction. His relatives were wrong, he was so much more than a freak. He had powers like the heroes in Dudley's comic books and could teleport, make things disappear, talk to snakes, and summon bright lights from nothing. As if on cue, the orb flickered out and Harry realized he was covered in sweat. Exhausted and damp, Harry fell back against his bed and finally fell asleep.

Three weeks. The Dursleys confined him to the cupboard for his longest punishment yet. Harry figured it would be bad, but he underestimated just how long his aunt and uncle could hold a grudge. He was let out for glasses of water, bathroom visits, and to cook meals, but Harry was surprised he wasn't allowed to finish the remaining school left before the summer holidays.

Aunt Petunia told his teacher and the neighbors that he had chicken-pox, and that Harry would finish his homework at home. She threw all of it in the trash of course and though Harry rarely completed his homework he wished he had it just for something to do. When he was younger Harry would come home with better marks than Dudley but after being called a cheater and given extra chores as punishment, Harry stopped finishing his assignments. He had made sure to pay attention in class, but since he couldn't go to school until the fall Harry focused on practising his newfound ability.

Making light was all well and good, but Harry wanted to master a more useful talent first. Since he was already pressed for food, the power to open locked cupboard doors would be crucial to counter the one-meal-a-day policy Uncle Vernon enforced. It took Harry nearly a week of trying before he successfully managed to lock and unlock his cupboard in one sitting, and two more days before he could use the power without feeling extreme fatigue afterwards.

He made up for the time it took to hone the skill by filling zip-lock baggies with food and storing them underneath his mattress. Harry was careful to use his powers during the dead of night and always took small amounts each time so no one would notice anything. He did break the pattern on one occasion to unlock the bathroom door while Aunt Petunia took a morning shower. Harry had to stuff his mouth with his blanket to keep from laughing when a half-asleep Dudley accidently walked in on her and screamed loud enough to wake the house next door.

It was well into the summer holidays by the time Harry's three week punishment was up and he was expected to take up his normal litany of chores. Harry had gotten the hang of manipulating locks, summoning basic spheres of light, and was trying to get the light to change its size and colour. One morning, Harry walked into the kitchen and found some disgusting gray rags floating in the kitchen sink. He opened his mouth to ask Aunt Petunia why she had stolen a homeless man's clothes when he spotted his future school's emblem sewed onto the shirt.

"Your Stonewall uniform is almost finished." Aunt Petunia snippily stated. She sniffed as Harry tried to hide his grimace at the musty smell coming from his 'uniform'.

"And you're washing it... in the kitchen sink..." He said slowly.

"I'm dying some of Dudley's old things." She snapped. "No sense wasting perfectly good clothes on a freak like you, when these will suffice."

Harry ignored her and started preparing blueberry pancakes for his relatives. They would be seasoned with a new ingredient that he recently discovered and found paired nicely with just about anything- saliva. Uncle Vernon and Dudley sat down at the table right when he finished, and he began serving them the hot food. Which Harry nearly dropped when he was whacked in the nose with a hard wooden stick. He had forgotten that Dudley also received his Smelting's school uniform which came with an annoyingly hard maple walking cane. Harry rubbed his tender nose and made sure to give Dudley a larger serving of his special pancakes. He smiled happily and chewed on his bread while his relatives hungrily dug in. The mail slot rattled moments later and Uncle Vernon glared at his nephew.

"Well, go on then boy, you heard the door."

"I'll go when I'm finished." Harry said, taking another bite of bread.

"Give him another smack with that there stick, Dudley."

The stick swung wildly at Harry's head again but Harry caught it in his hand moments before again impacting his already sensitive nose. Not waiting for a reaction, Harry stuffed the last of his breakfast in his mouth and darted into the hallway to get the mail. Three letters lay on the mat in front of the door and Harry picked them up. He quickly glanced at a postcard from Aunt Marge, something from Uncle Vernon's office, and… an envelope with 'Harry Potter' written in cursive.

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he noticed the rest of the green words inked on the yellow parchment. It was addressed to a 'Mister Harry James Potter of the Cupboard Under the Stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey'. On the back was a very strange coat of arms and a red wax seal that looked like something straight out of the medieval section of a history book. Harry swallowed nervously. These people knew about his cupboard and they knew his middle name, something he actually hadn't known until now.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from the kitchen. "Did that knock on the head bugger your brains up even more? Hurry up with the post!"

Harry made his way slowly down the hallway, staring at the letter that was clearly for his eyes only. He wanted nothing more than to open it up immediately, but he knew he could never hope to open it undisturbed in the kitchen with the Dursleys. He paused in front of his cupboard and hid the letter in the pile of Dudley's castoffs, careful to make no noise when he closed it again. Harry took a second to calm down and replace the shaken look on his face with one of bored indifference. He then walked back into the kitchen.

"Took your ruddy sweet time," Uncle Vernon grumbled immediately upon seeing Harry. He gestured for the letters in Harry's hands. "Give 'em here, then."

Harry gave his uncle the letters he had absolutely zero interest in and started clearing the plates and cutlery off the table. He had to put them through the dishwasher rather than wash them by hand as his school uniform was still fermenting in the sink. When he finished loading the dishes into the dishwasher, he looked out the kitchen window and spotted an owl in the tree outside. It was a barn owl, if Harry remembered correctly from primary school, and it was staring intensely at him. Harry stepped to the left a bit and watched the owl's head rotate to follow his movement. This time he shuffled to the right, and still the owl's wide eyes fixated squarely on him.

"Huh," said Harry. "I guess it's going to be one of those days."

Harry wanted to immediately hide in his cupboard and read the mysterious letter but he still had a day of chores to get through. He spent the daylight hours sweeping, dusting, washing windows, cleaning Dudley's room, mowing the grass, and tending to Aunt Petunia's s garden (which he felt needed a name change as he always did the lion's share of the work for it). The strange barn owl sat in the tree and watched him as he labored. Harry wondered if it was going to start speaking like Riggens or at the very least sleep since owls were supposed to be nocturnal, but it just kept staring and blinking slowly. He eventually lost interest in the feathered creature and focused on finishing his work faster. In the evening Harry was finally free. He rushed to his cupboard, locked it, and under the glow of his trusty ball of light he examined the object he had been mulling over all day. Harry guessed whoever wrote to him had watched him closely for some time since they knew about his cupboard. He hoped that some long-lost relative or friend of the Potters had found him and was going to take him away from the Dursleys. The parchment envelope and wax seal on the back were odd (and slightly smelly), but perhaps whoever it was happened to be a huge fan of the Medieval age and used their family's crest to appear official.

Harry broke the seal and opened the envelope with shaking hands. Inside were two folded letters, written on the same type of parchment the envelope was made of. He held his breath and unfolded the first one slowly. It was not at all what he expected. There was no relative or friend coming for Harry, but it was some very good news. Harry's eyes lit up as he read the letter, by the end he was grinning madly. He was a wizard. What Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon called 'freakishness' was in fact real magic and he was already enrolled in the magical school Hogwarts.

"Yes!" Harry whispered excitedly. "Maybe I should learn to make some fire to torch that Stonewall uniform before I go."

Harry lost some of his good cheer when he opened the other letter and found the list of required materials. He had no money and hadn't the faintest clue where to start looking for cauldrons, let alone a magic wand. He was starting to think he would have to go to Stonewall High after all when his mind put two and two together. _We await your owl, t_ he letter had said. His response was due the same day as his birthday, July 31st, and he knew exactly how to get it there before the deadline. Hiding the parchments back under the clothes pile, Harry snuffed out his light. He picked up the broken crayon on his shelf and unlocked his cupboard door. He always wore socks when sneaking around the house at night and he needed to be especially quiet now while he searched for what he needed. In the kitchen garbage he found a crumpled piece of paper that had yesterday's shopping list scrawled on the front. Flipping it over to the blank side he began writing his message.

 _Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,_

 _I would love to attend your school but I don't have money or any clue where to find the things that I'm expected to bring. If it's not too much trouble, could you please help me get this sorted? Hogwarts sounds incredible!_

 _Thanks again,_

 _Harry Potter_

The paper was all wrinkled and the red crayon looked very silly in comparison to the letter Harry had received, but it would serve its purpose. He didn't want to risk being found out later if he broke into the desk that held the Dursley's envelopes and stationary, so Harry decided to leave his message as it was. He unlocked the door from the inside, thankful that he didn't need to use his magic to do so. He closed the door slowly and darted around the side of the house, stopping in front of the familiar tree outside the kitchen window. The barn owl looked to be sleeping, but opened its eyes when Harry drew close.

"Uh, sorry for making you wait all day." Harry whispered. He inwardly promised to not make a habit of apologizing out loud to every animal he talked to. "I've got the note right here, but I don't really know how this goes so…."

The owl hooted once in response. It was clearly a professional who didn't seem bothered by the amount of time it took for Harry to arrive. It flew down from the tree and took the paper from Harry's outstretched hand in its beak. Wasting no time, the owl took to the night sky and was out of sight within moments. Harry was happy at having completed his task, but only relaxed when he was back within the safety of his small cupboard. He fell asleep and dreamt of the bright green light that he hadn't dreamed of since he was a small child.

Every morning after Harry volunteered at breakfast to check the mail, eager to see if the reply from Hogwarts came. He was disappointed until the morning two days before Harry's birthday. He saw a single letter with the familiar green ink that made his heart race. As he read the address, Harry noticed this time the letter, for some reason, did not include any mention of the Cupboard Under the Stairs. He turned around to stash this new letter with the old one and found himself face to face with Dudley. Given the way he was standing, Dudley had planned to smack Harry with the Smeltings stick from behind but stopped short when he saw the letter with Harry's name on it.

"Dad! The freak's got a letter!" Dudley shouted. He grinned at the look of utter fury on his cousin's face.

Uncle Vernon waddled into view, looking surprised to see that Dudley was correct. His confusion quickly became annoyance and he snatched the letter from Harry's hands. He turned it over and after seeing the waxy red seal and the strange crest, went pale. He held the letter up and away from his body, like it was about to explode any second.

"PETUNIA!" He bellowed. "It's the freaks! They found us!"

Aunt Petunia rushed into the hallway, her face white and expression stony. She grimaced when she saw the seal but tore open Harry's letter and read its contents. After reading it, she gasped loudly and turned nervously to her husband.

"He knows," she said voice quavering. "He knows, and it says they're going to send one of those – those freaks here!"

"Let me read it!" Dudley whined at his parents.

Uncle Vernon's fear turned to anger and he turned towards Harry and Dudley.

"STAY HERE!" He barked. He grabbed Petunia by the arm and they rushed into the kitchen the door behind them.

Dudley and Harry immediately ran to the door in order to eavesdrop. Dudley pressed his ear to the keyhole while Harry dropped on the ground to hear through the crack under the door.

"The boy got the first one somehow," Aunt Petunia said waspishly. "He's written to them and this is their response. Who knows what they'll do when they get here?"

Uncle Vernon didn't like where she was going. "They won't find or do anything! We'll be gone by the time they get here, we're leaving tonight! "

"What? But –"

"Now! We'll leave right now, Petunia!" He cut her off. "I'll have none of that business in this house, understand? We made a promise!"

Harry and Dudley scrambled away from the door when they heard Uncle Vernon's heavy footsteps approach.

"Dudley, pack up your things." He ordered. "We're going on vacation."

Dudley nodded meekly and ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Uncle Vernon turned to Harry with a strained smile on his face.

"It's time you moved your things up into Dudley's second bedroom. Be ready to leave within the hour."

Harry nodded. He knew what game his Uncle was playing. The man was afraid that whoever Hogwarts sent would discover the kinds of things Harry was subjected to over these years. Dudley always sucked up to his parents before they discovered he'd done something wrong so he could blame it on Harry. His upgrade to a real bedroom was simply a way to cover the tracks if they came here. Luckily for him, Harry had no intention of telling anyone anything. This was his problem to deal with and no one else's. He had managed fine on his own after he tried to tell his elementary school teacher and was called a liar. No, apart from the snake he met at the zoo Harry didn't want anyone knowing anything about his personal life. He heard Uncle Vernon smack Dudley around the head for trying to bring his computer and figured he needed to hurry.

Harry set about packing up his things, taking special care to conceal his original Hogwarts letter and the plastic bags holding his food stashes. He made his way upstairs and studied his new living space. Broken toys and garbage covered nearly every surface in the small room. Harry set his things on the floor, and simply shoved everything into the small closet in the corner. He put the toy soldiers and crayon on the wooden desk by the window, and the mattress on the bed in the corner. Harry needed a good hiding spot for the letter and the bags of food, and found the perfect spot under the bed. A loose floor board would serve his needs just fine. Taking his blanket with him, Harry made his way downstairs and saw the Dursleys loading the car with luggage. Dudley was whining about Harry taking a room he never went in, Aunt Petunia was sitting in the passenger seat with pursed lips, and Uncle Vernon was putting a suitcase in the trunk.

"Get in." He barked at Harry as he slammed the trunk shut.

Harry scrambled in the backseat, shoving Dudley's bag of snacks into the middle. The car pulled out of the driveway and turned off Privet Drive.

Apparently Uncle Vernon wasn't pulling any punches. Harry and Dudley fell asleep in the car and woke up to find it parked at a rocky shoreline. They were the only people around except for an old weather-beaten fisherman who was grinning and counting the twenty-pound notes Uncle Vernon gave him. There was a decrepit old shack on an island out in the water and since a boat was loaded with their luggage and supplies, Harry glumly concluded that was where they would be 'vacationing'.

"It had better have a tele." Dudley grumbled. A couple shingles fell off the roof. Harry snorted.

After arranging the details with the greedy old fisherman, they filed into the boat. Aunt Petunia cringed as she daintily sat on the salt-encrusted seat. Uncle Vernon ignited the engine and steered the craft towards the island.

"There'll be a storm tonight, too!" He said cheerfully. "No freaks coming tonight! No, sir."

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" whispered Dudley. Aunt Petunia sighed.

The shack smelled horrible and looked like something out of one of Dudley's favourite horror movies but Uncle Vernon was in heaven. The storm hit a few hours after they settled in and everyone decided to go to bed early. Harry couldn't fall asleep on the cold stone tiles so as midnight neared he took to counting down the minutes until he officially turned eleven. Dudley was asleep on the couch across from Harry's spot on the floor and the glowing interface of his watch was quite easy to see in the dark. Most kids would be excited for their birthday but Harry was indifferent. He never received a gift in his life and he wasn't close enough with Mrs. Figg for her to give him a present. The lady probably assumed he got the same treatment as Dudley. Harry was also feeling gloomy because he had no idea how the person from Hogwarts would find him. Why would they look for him out in the middle of nowhere during one of the worst storms of the year?

The beeping of Dudley's watch brought him out of his brooding and he realized that it was July 31st. He rolled over on his blanket and stared up at the dusty ceiling.

"Happy birthday, Harry," he whispered to himself.

Suddenly, a thundering noise crashed from outside the front door and Harry jumped in fright. He stared wide-eyed at the splintered wood, a dozen horrific imaginings running through his mind of whatever force had bashed into it. With another smash, the door caved in and an impossibly huge man stepped through the doorway. Harry scrambled behind the couch. Raindrops fell from his enormous beard as lightning flashed through the open door. Dudley was still snoring (nothing short of food would ever wake him) but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon came rushing down the stairs in their nightclothes. Petunia was empty handed but Uncle Vernon held a heavy double-barrel shotgun and had it pointed at the man who knocked down the door.

"Get out right now or you'll be shot, you bloody pillock!" He shouted.

The man took one look at the sight of Harry's uncle and snorted.

"Yeh, right."

He pulled the gun out of Uncle Vernon's shaking hands and twisted it into an unrecognizable heap of metal. What was left of the gun was flung out the door behind him and skittered across the slick rocks outside the shack. The giant turned around and rubbed his hands together. He spoke calmly, oblivious to the gaping mouths in front of him.

"Now then," He said cheerily. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop mucking about, and tell me where I can find 'arry Potter."

The giant pulled a squashed box tied with string from his large trench coat and placed it on the arm of the couch. Whatever was inside it must be edible because Dudley sat upright.

'Where's the food?' he said, blearily blinking. The giant glared at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. No one said anything for a moment. His relatives were still reeling from the man's dramatic entrance while the giant seemed to enjoy his stare down with Vernon and Petunia. After another minute he cracked his knuckles and looked around, almost as if he was looking for more objects to reshape. Harry steeled himself and stood up.

"I-I am right here, sir."

The giant beamed at him. "'Ello there 'arry. I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts but you can call me Hagrid."

Harry waved back nervously and smiled weakly. He had no idea how someone like him could be hired to simply 'Keep Keys and Grounds', but decided it would be rude to ask about that right now.

"Professor McGonagall got your letter," said Hagrid. "Dumbledore suggested I be the one to help yeh get yer school supplies."

Uncle Vernon finally recollected the courage he had lost alongside his shotgun and yelled up at the giant.

"He won't be going!" His face was a familiar purple colour again. "That lunatic can go and shove his suggestions up his old wrinkly arse!"

Hagrid furrowed his eyebrows and growled. He strode over and lifted Uncle Vernon up by his collar and dangled him in the air at his eye level.

"LISTEN 'ERE YOU SODDING LUMP OF –"He trailed off at the sound of chewing noises coming from the couch. Dudley, taking the opportunity Hagrid's diverted attentions gave him, had opened the box on the couch arm and was stuffing his cheeks with the pink-frosted cake that lay inside. Realizing all was quiet, he paused with a chunk of cake in each hand and slowly looked up to see all eyes focused on him. Seeing Hagrid's thunderous expression, he gulped and fled over to where his mother stood in the corner. Hagrid dropped Uncle Vernon unceremoniously to the floor and looked apologetically at Harry.

"That… was yer birthday cake 'arry," he said sadly. "It wasn't much but I'm sorry I didn't keep me eye on it."

"Thanks for trying Hagrid," said Harry genuinely. He didn't have the heart to inform the first person to ever give him a birthday cake that he didn't really like sugar.

Hagrid waved off Harry's thanks. "I'll bake you another one later. We should be on our way. We got a big day ahead of us." He glared at Uncle Vernon, silently daring him to say something. Uncle Vernon gulped and slowly scuttled backwards until he hit the dusty wall.

Harry nodded. As he walked to the door, Aunt Petunia decided to send him off with her two cents.

"Yes, go to your freakish school and get yourself blown up like your parents did." Aunt Petunia sneered at him from the base of the stairs, her arms around Dudley.

Harry froze and turned to face his aunt. He grit his teeth and responded with barely-restrained fury.

"You told me," he said slowly. "That they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH?" Hagrid bellowed. The giant looked back at Uncle Vernon who had been trying and failing to get a signal from the wall mounted telephone. "Just what trollop have you been feeding him all these years?"

"Nothing more than he deserved!" Harry's Uncle shot back. "I should have given him a good beating when I had the chance." He mumbled, punching numbers on the telephone. "Petunia and I knew he'd be just as bad as her sister."

"Perfect Lily!" Aunt Petunia spat out vehemently. "Always the pride of the family, always the special one! She'd come back every summer with bottles of freakish liquid and telling tales of giant squids!"

She looked so spiteful and pathetic in that moment. Harry almost felt sorry for her. What she said next however, absolutely quashed any small bit of pity Harry could have scrounged up.

"When she met that Potter boy, I knew he'd be the death of her. They went off into the sunset and when they got what they had coming to them we were saddled with you!"

Harry's temper flared, and the air crackled with energy as the windows of the shack cracked. Hagrid put a hand on his shoulder and pulled a very sharp-looking umbrella out of his coat.

"Don't worry 'arry," Hagrid stepped in front of Harry and pointed his umbrella at Dudley. "It's time fer the Dursleys to get what's been coming to them."

With an angry swish of the umbrella, a loud bang, and a dazzling purple light, Dudley found his round bottom now sported a curly and hairy little pig's tail. Naturally, outright chaos ensued. Dudley yelped and started running around, wildly screaming about his posterior. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fainted on the spot. Uncle Vernon rushed madly at the giant with fists swinging only to be knocked out cold in one swat of Hagrid's arm. Harry couldn't control himself and started cackling loudly. He only stopped when Hagrid gave him the umbrella and told him to wait outside in the rain. Moments later Hagrid came out holding the front door which he carefully placed back as best as he could. Together the pair made their way to the boat and started the trip back to the main land. Harry looked back at the island that was steadily becoming a blurry blob on the horizon as the boat chugged along.

"Yeh won'-," Hagrid broke the silence after a few minutes out on the choppy waters. "Er, tell anyone about what 'appened back there, will yeh? I'm not exactly supposed ter have this umbrella."

"Not a soul." Harry said with a wide grin. He was no stranger to doing things other people would frown upon after all and was happy to keep any secrets of the man who rescued him from the Dursleys.

Harry briefly wondered how Hagrid had gotten to the island in the first place and what the Dursleys would do now that they had taken the boat. He found he didn't really care and smirked at the thought of Dudley and Vernon trying to swim across. At least they would float. Couldn't have happened to a worse group of people.


	4. Chapter 4

The ride back to the shore was damp and cold, but Harry found it to be very relaxing. Hagrid was definitely a much better person to travel with than the Dursleys. As the boat moved toward the rickety dock, the storm dwindled to a light, misty rain. Hagrid tied it down and Harry gingerly stepped off the boat. The rain finally stopped altogether as they approached the end of the muddy road where Uncle Vernon parked. Harry spotted a new vehicle beside his Uncle's car, a familiar-looking red motorcycle that was unnaturally dry. It must be magical like Hagrid's umbrella.

"Nice bike," Harry said as Hagrid clambered into the main seat. "It feels like… I've seen it before. In a dream, maybe."

Hagrid smiled and pointed at the sidecar. Harry climbed in and buckled the seatbelt.

"Good memory yeh got there, 'arry. Yeh rode in it with me when yeh were jes' a wee lad." Hagrid's face fell as he recalled the rest of that horrible night. "I'll tell yeh more when we ge' some breakfast. This ain't the time."

Hagrid started the engine and Harry watched in amazement as it steadily rose into the air. Soon they were high in the sky, soaring past the tiny, speckled lights of the towns below. This beat Harry's flying motorbike dreams a thousand times over, now he was really experiencing the sensation of being so high up among the stars and wispy clouds.

"This is amazing!" Harry shouted through the wind as he peered over the sides, keeping one hand on his glasses so they didn't fall off. "How fast can this thing go?"

Hagrid chuckled at his excitement and increased the speed.

All too quickly for Harry's liking, they arrived in London. Hagrid slowly descended the bike into a small, shadowy side street. A large clock on a post showed the time was one-thirty in the morning, way past Harry's bed time but he didn't feel sleepy at all. The late time thankfully meant no one was around to see the flying motorbike, but Harry was worried Hagrid's bike might get stolen.

"Don't yeh worry 'arry," Hagrid said. "It's got magic ter protect it from muggles noticin' it."

They had to walk for a bit to arrive at wherever it was Hagrid was going. Harry, who had never been to London before (or anywhere besides the rickety shack), was too busy taking in everything to care. The shops, cars, sidewalks, buildings, and roads were all new to him and being out in London at night made the streets feel more exciting and mysterious. After bumping into a lamp post twice, Harry decided to keep an eye on his guide and where he was walking rather than the interesting sights. Roughly twenty minutes later, Hagrid stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. Harry nearly walked into him. He was about to ask the giant what he was doing, when he spotted what Hagrid was looking at. Harry could have sworn he'd only seen a closed shoe-shop and a corner store there moments ago, but now there stood jammed between them an ancient pub, with a rusty sign proclaiming it 'The Leaky Cauldron'.

"This, 'arry," Hagrid said proudly. "Is where it all begins. Yeh need yer sleep first, though. I booked rooms ahead o' time."

Hagrid opened the weathered door, and Harry followed him into the strange-looking pub.

It was dark and looked about as run-down as it appeared outside. Still, it had an interesting, if slightly creepy appeal that reminded Harry of the Victorian period dramas his Aunt watched on the tele. The floors, walls, ceiling, and tables were made of old, weather-beaten mahogany and the chairs and booths were fitted with faded black leather. Harry thought the place would look far more welcoming with a good cleaning. Behind the bar stood an older-looking man fixing drinks for the two customers that were still up at this late hour.

"That's Tom," Hagrid said pointing at the man at the bar. "Been running this place fer years, 'e has. It's right famous, I can introduce yeh if yeh –"

Harry yawned loudly. While he was definitely feeling tired now, Harry mainly didn't want to have to deal with people tonight.

"I'm so sleepy, Hagrid," Harry rubbed his eyes dramatically. "Can we just go to bed?"

Hagrid looked a bit sheepish. "Oh right, sorry. Yer room's jes' this way."

He led Harry up the stairs on the left of the bar and down the narrow hallway to a door with the silver number twelve on the front. Hagrid gave Harry the key to his room. Harry turned to unlock it when Hagrid cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Er, 'arry. I wanted ter ask yeh about somethin'," Hagrid fidgeted slightly. "That Dursley, 'e talked about wanting ter… ter beat on yeh."

 _Oh crap._ Harry thought.

"But 'e never – never did any 'o that, right?"

 _Think, think!_ Harry's mind raced.

"No…" Harry said truthfully. "He's never done anything of that sort, Hagrid. I promise."

 _But he wanted to_. A small voice said. _He just let his son do it for him_.

Hagrid relaxed considerably but still looked uncertain.

"They didn't tell yeh anything about magic, though. And they said some awful things about yer parents."

Harry, try as he might couldn't forget that and hated the Dursleys for it, but he wanted Hagrid to just drop the subject. He was honestly embarrassed that Hagrid saw so much of how the Dursleys treated him already. The giant was the first to ever actually ask about how he was treated, and though Harry in the past had hoped for someone who cared enough to ask didn't really know what to do now it happened. He didn't want Hagrid to think him weak and maybe tell other people about him. This whole situation was too uncomfortable and strange.

"Uh, yeah," Harry said. He needed to end this quickly. "The Dursleys get a bit mean when they're angry, you know? I've not behaved perfectly over the years, too. I trapped Dudley and his friend in a snake exhibit at the zoo in June. They're probably afraid of magic and that's why they didn't tell me."

Hagrid frowned. "It wasn't yer fault 'arry, an' they didn't have the right ter act like that. They should 'ave told you."

Harry did agree with him. He disliked having to defend the Dursleys but he didn't want to talk about it with Hagrid. All Harry wanted to do was push it out of his mind and get to bed.

"Well, you said you'd tell me all that stuff at breakfast," Harry made himself smile. "It's okay, Hagrid. Thanks for worrying about me but I'm fine. Really."

Hagrid nodded once. He did seem much less troubled. "Right, then. Well, g'night, 'arry."

"Night." Harry said.

He watched Hagrid go into the room across the hall and waited until the door closed before he went in his own room. Harry was a whole mess of emotions. He wanted to go to sleep and stop feeling so stressed. He made his way to the rickety old bed and threw himself down onto the comforter. Sleep came soon.

Everything was quiet and calm darkness. Suddenly, a cruel and high-pitched laughter disrupted the tranquil stillness. A blinding flash of green light swallowed everything and there was nothing but excruciating pain. Harry woke up panting in a cold sweat. The dream was fresh in his mind. His clothes were even more wrinkled and he had forgotten to take his shoes off, but his forehead was hurting too much for him to care. Harry hopped off the bed and quickly walked to the mirror hanging on the wall. He lifted his bangs to see his scar red and inflamed.

The clock hanging on the wall tick-tocked quietly and Harry noticed it was nearly ten-o-clock. He opened the door to head downstairs but paused.

He remembered what Hagrid said last night, how he promised to tell Harry what really happened to his parents, what the Dursleys kept from him his whole life. Harry now knew they knowingly kept the existence of magic from him when he eavesdropped through the kitchen door with Dudley. His Aunt and Uncle had gone so far as to make a promise to each other to never tell him. Freakish things happened all his life regardless, so finding out he was a wizard wasn't that surprising to him. Harry cared more that they lied about his parent's deaths and let him to believe they were careless drunk drivers who abandoned him forever out of stupidity. Out of all the things they had done to him he would never forgive them for that.

Harry shook his head and tried to focus on the positive. He was finally going to find out the truth.

Harry went down the hallway and staircase to the main area of the pub. It was fairly full and even though it was only five minutes past ten, most of the people there decided to get an early start on their drinking. Harry sat down to wait for Hagrid in an empty corner booth that was furthest away from everyone. He watched Tom the barman make drinks and the waitress who Harry assumed was Tom's wife flit around the tables serving customers.

Harry felt himself nodding off when heavy footsteps approached, bringing him out of his lucid state. Hagrid squeezed into the booth, moving it forward several inches.

"Mornin 'arry," he said. Hagrid picked up a folded newspaper somebody had left on the seat of the booth and put it on the corner of the table. Harry noticed moving pictures on the cover and assumed it was a magical newspaper. He pulled it closer and Hagrid snorted. "I wouldn't read that if I wer you. Fudge 'as been buggering up things as usual. Times like this I wish Dumbledore 'ad taken 'is job."

Harry knew of the Hogwarts Headmaster from his letter, but he had no idea what fudge Hagrid was talking about. Maybe fudge was an important part of the magical economy. He was still a little out of it so his groggy mind tried to make sense of it as best it could.

"I don't like fudge, Hagrid," Harry said and blinked his eyes blearily. "It's… yucky."

Hagrid looked at Harry in confusion for a second before letting out a loud, bellowing laugh. Several customers glanced towards their booth.

"That's funny, 'Arry," He said, still chuckling. "Cornelius Fudge is th' Minster of Magic, sorta like the muggle Prime Minister. Not a very good one mind, so 'e as to rely on Dumbledore's advice. Yeh're right abou' one thing, 'e's as yucky as fudge gets."

The magicals had their own government, which Harry figured made sense.

"What does the Ministry do?"

Hagrid scoffed. "Not much, ter be frank. They keep our world secret from the muggles 'o course, but mostly bungle things up fer us an' bicker endlessly in th' Wizengamot."

Harry nodded. Inwardly, he agreed that keeping magic from the muggles was for the better. His experiences with most of them didn't do a good job of convincing him that they should know about the wizarding world.

"What's the Wizengamot?" Harry asked.

"Wizarding court. Been around since before the Ministry. It deals with all them laws an' justice-y stuff. Lots of rich, old families on it an' I'm not ter fond of it, meself."

It seemed to Harry that Hagrid had some personal issues with them, but he didn't ask.

"The Ministry sounds really awful." Harry said

Hagrid shook his head and continued. "Law enforcement an' a few other departments are decent but they never get the fundin' they need ter do things right. That's 'ow government goes I s'pose, 'arry."

Hagrid motioned flagged down the waitress and they were given some menus and glasses of water to start. Harry studied the menu and found that a lot of the food was not what he was used to. When the waitress came back and asked what they'd like to eat and drink, Harry figured he'd stick with water and go with a vegetable omelet. Hagrid ordered something called a butterbeer and three full English breakfasts (he did have a big appetite, being his size). Hagrid told Harry stories about Hogwart's Forbidden Forest and his pet boarhound Fang while they waited for the food. When it arrived, Harry finally asked the big question.

"Hagrid… what really happened to my parents?"

Hagrid paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He sighed and placed it back on his plate.

"Before I can tell you that… you need to know about – about someone. Everyone in the wizardin' world knows 'is name."

"Who is he?"

Hagrid looked extremely awkward and…fearful? Harry figured this person must be very powerful to make someone as big as Hagrid so unnerved.

"I'm sorry 'arry, it's jes'… 'is name isn't somethin' I can say easily."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well, maybe you can write it down?"

Hagrid shook his head. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for what he was going to do.

"'is name was… Voldemort." Hagrid whispered as quietly as he could, and looked around quickly to see if anyone else heard him.

Harry almost snorted loudly, but managed to cover it with a cough. Despite Hagrid's serious tone, Harry imagined a baby being handed proudly to its mother at the hospital while the mother happily proclaimed, 'We'll call him Voldy-mort! My sweet widdle baby Voldy'.

 _Must be some sort of stage name_. Harry decided. _Even the Dursleys wouldn't be that cruel._

Harry shoveled some omelet into his mouth to distract his wandering thoughts. He belatedly noted how despite the pub's appearance, the Leaky's food was delicious.

"Twenty years ago, 'e started makin' a name for 'imself. 'E was so powerful, 'andsome, smart, an' compellin' people flocked ter 'im. They saw what 'e could do, and 'e… could do some pretty awful things. Everyday someone lost friends or family. No one 'ad seen anything this bad since Grindelwald, an' don't ask about 'im either, 'arry. I can barely get through this."

He paused shakily to take another deep breath.

"Those followers - 'is people… were called Death Eaters, an' they practically took control over everythin'. They were gettin' in the Ministry, killing everyone who tried to stand up, an' eventually 'ogwarts was the last place left that was safe. V-v-You-Know-Who was afraid of Dumbledore, so 'e left the school alone. Now Lily and James, yer parents, 'e became obsessed with tryin' ter find 'em. They were 'is most vocal opposers and they were everythin' yeh'd look fer in a witch and wizard. Only 'bout a year out of school but yer mom was already so brilliant and yer dad one of the most powerful I'd seen in a long time. Little wonder Voldemort needed 'em gone if they wouldn't join 'im."

Hagrid was tearing up so he used a corner of the tablecloth as a handkerchief. Harry hoped Tom and his wife didn't notice.

"An'… on 'alloween of 1981, 'e found them somehow. It was 'orrible, they were some of the best people I ever knew. They were supposed ter be safe in Godric's 'ollow, but 'e – 'e killed 'em an' then went fer yeh. That man wanted yeh dead ter, a little baby, but when 'e cast the killing curse on yeh, one of the three Unforgivables, it didn't work. Worked on yer parents and the upper part of the 'ouse was practically gone after, but all yeh got left with was that scar. Yeh probably thought yeh got it in that car crash, but -"

"The green light, "Harry remembered suddenly, and Hagrid flinched. "I had dreams about green light sometimes, but yesterday I also heard a horrible cruel laugh and my scar hurt. That must've been him, then."

Hagrid looked devastated. "Wha'… I can't believe you'd remember…. It's not a normal scar, 'arry, that's prob'ly why. When a curse as dark and 'orrible like that one touches yeh, it leaves a mark."

They sat quietly for a while, neither quite knowing what to say. Hagrid was trying to distract himself by eating his breakfast quickly. It was a lot to take in but Harry found he wasn't as affected as he thought he should be.

 _Is there something wrong with me?_ He wondered, as he poked the remains of his omelet with his fork.

He definitely was sad and angry that he survived when his parents were murdered by some psychopath with a weird name, but he found he honestly wasn't all that shocked to hear his backstory. All his life he was seen as a freaky little boy, and he couldn't remember a time when someone wasn't trying to hurt or ostracize him. Finding out that even as a baby some dark wizard who didn't even know him tried to murder him, didn't really surprise Harry. By now, he was resigned to the fact that his life was just one bad event after another. Though Hagrid was clearly still shaken up, Harry had a few more questions and needed Hagrid to put up with him a little longer.

"What happened to him, Hagrid?" Harry asked. "After that, did Vold –"

"Shh!" Hagrid whispered immediately. "Most people can't stand the name even today, 'arry."

Hagrid put his knife and fork down on his empty plate and took a swig from his butterbeer.

"But ter answer yer question, well… 'e died. Or at least that's what most people think. Dumbledore believes 'e's still out there somewhere, but I'm not ter sure meself. They never did find a body so 'e might be alive, only ter weak ter ever return. Never found 'is wand either, now I think about it. "

Harry felt a strong emotion - fear. It was one thing to accept all these horrible things happened when he was younger, but it was something else entirely to think this killer was still alive somewhere. Harry shivered in his seat and drank some water to calm his nerves.

"What about those unforgivable things you mentioned? You said there are three of them, right?"

Hagrid nodded. "Cast any one 'o them an' yeh get a life sentence in Azkaban prison. There's the Cruciatus, the torture curse, which causes unimaginable pain. The other one's the Imperious curse, which lets yeh control another person entirely. The last is the killing curse, a deadly green light that kills everything it touches."

 _Except me._ Harry thought. He looked down at his lap.

"It's why yeh an' that scar are so famous 'arry," Harry's head shot up at Hagrid's words instantly. "You-Know-Who's curse didn't work on yeh, an' every witch and wizard knows yer name because of it. Yeh're the Boy-Who-Lived."

 _Oh god_. Harry panicked. _I'm not even normal in the wizarding world._

Harry should have known that being the only survivor of a killing curse and an attack from one of the worst magical mass murderers ever would not be something the public quickly moved on from. Once again, Harry would be treated differently from everyone else and he wouldn't be able to relax and be himself. At Hogwarts, kids would probably pepper him with questions about his scar and they'd already know everything about him. Harry hated having to be around strangers, but figured in the wizarding world he'd be another ordinary student and be able to do things without drawing attention to himself. Apparently, nothing would ever be easy and now he needed to find a disguise. The last thing Harry wanted was his scar getting noticed and having to deal with questions, stares, and weird behaviour from every magical person he met today. He'd been lucky so far but it wouldn't' last.

Hagrid slowly calmed down from the traumatic memories he shared and quietly sipped his butterbeer. Harry glanced around the bar, studying the patrons. Outside of a jumpy, terrified-looking man in a purple turban who was sitting two booths down, no one seemed out of the ordinary. While glancing around the pub, his green eyes settled on a box in the corner and a plan formed in his mind.

"I'll be right back, Hagrid."

Hagrid nodded and kept nursing his drink.

Harry strode over to the cardboard box and knelt down beside it. On the side, thick black letters read:

 _LOST AND FOUND_

Harry stuck his hands inside and began rummaging around. There were several crusty grey socks, two crumpled beige shirts, a ratty navy-blue robe, one lone red mitten, a leopard-skin thong which Harry didn't touch, and finally what Harry was looking for. A pea-green woolen beanie was crushed near the bottom of the box of lost items. It looked old, so he figured no one would miss it. If they did… then it would be going to a good cause, at least in Harry's opinion. He picked it up in his hands and placed over his head.

 _Let's hope it doesn't come with lice._ Harry suddenly thought as he adjusted the hat. _Oh well, too late for that._

It was surprisingly comfortable. Not that it mattered really, since Harry was used to hand-me-downs and would have taken anything to hide his scar (except that thong).

Harry made his way back to the booth and guessed Hagrid must have paid the bill as their plates and glasses were gone. He was about to sit down when Hagrid stopped him.

"It's time to go an' get started 'arry." He said. "Best get it done as quickly as we can."

"Alright," Harry agreed. "Thanks for the room and breakfast, Hagrid."

"My pleasure," Hagrid said. "Oh, would yeh look at that!"

Hagrid pointed over to the booth with the twitchy, wimpy-looking purple turban man.

"That's Professor Quirrell," he said jovially. "E's your Defense against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Huh."

The man looked like he couldn't defend himself from a mouse, let alone qualify to teach the subject.

"I'll introduce yeh," Hagrid said with a smile. He cupped his hands around his mouth and made to shout across the room.

"Wait!" Harry said before the giant drew the attention of everyone in the bar. "He – uh, looks a little flustered, don't you think? Maybe he'd like a quieter introduction."

Quirrell looked more on the brink of an aneurysm, but Harry wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He simply didn't want to be the centre of attention and wasn't sure if Hagrid had planned to shout out his name for everyone to hear. Thankfully, Hagrid seemed to consider the Defense Professor's condition.

"Hmm, yeh might be righ', 'arry. Man's been a right wreck as of late."

They made their way over to him and Professor Quirrell looked up fearfully at Hagrid when they stopped in front of his booth. Having recognized him, he smiled nervously.

"H-H-Hagrid, what a n-nice s-s-surprise." Professor Quirrell stuttered. "And you b-brought a f-friend."

"Aye, this 'ere is 'arry Potter." Hagrid said pleasantly. "We'll be getting' 'is school shopping done."

Professor Quirrell looked at Harry, one of his blue eyes twitching slightly.

"P-P-Potter, what a p-pleasure it is to finally m-m-meet you."

He held his hand out to Harry. Professor Quirrell seemed like he should be in a hospital rather than a school for children, but Harry shook his hand anyway. It wouldn't do to be impolite to someone who would be marking his assignments.

"Pleased to meet you as well, Professor." Harry said politely and let go from the handshake. "I'm looking forward to your class."

 _Looks can be deceiving. In this case, I really hope so._ Harry thought blandly. He was a perfect example of it, after all.

"N-not that you'll n-need it eh, P-p-potter?" Professor Quirrell said with his nervous smile. "I h-have to b-buy s-something too, so I'd b-best get g-g-going."

He seemed really eager to get whatever it was he needed, as he practically ran from the pub and out a door near the back.

 _I hope they sell spines._ Harry said internally, as he watched his 'professor' dart off.

Harry had a hunch that Defense against the Dark Arts would involve a lot of independent study.

"Well, best get a move on then, 'arry." Hagrid said.

The giant led Harry out of the Leaky Cauldron through the same door Professor Quirrell had used moments before. It led to a small and dirty courtyard. Garbage was piled everywhere and it smelled heavily of fish. There was no exit, just a crumbling, red-bricked wall that connected the two adjacent buildings together that Harry couldn't see over. Hagrid walked forward confidently.

"Uh, Hagrid," Harry said. He wrinkled his nose at the fishy odor. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"

Hagrid chuckled and pulled his trusty magic umbrella from his trench coat. He stepped closer to the wall and raised his umbrella in front of him.

"Watch and learn, 'arry." Hagrid said happily.

He deftly poked three different bricks with the umbrella tip. Stepping back, Hagrid smiled at Harry in anticipation.

Suddenly the bricks started rumbling and began folding away from each other slowly. Harry watched with baited breath as the bricks' flowing pattern formed an archway. The air between the bricked doorway was blurry and shimmering slightly.

"Welcome, 'arry, to Diagon Alley."

They stepped through the magical doorway and everything became more focused. The alley practically screamed 'magic'. The street was lined with colourful yet strange shops and people with pointed hats and robes. Weird candies and odd devices filled the display windows and the air buzzed with the sound of conversation and hooting, for some reason. Harry's mouth dropped open at the sight.

"Yup," Hagrid chuckled. "It is pretty neat, ain't it?"

 _Not the word I'd use_. Harry suddenly thought darkly.

It was definitely an amazing place, but the small cobble-stoned street was crammed full of bustling shoppers. They were bumping into each other and so close together that Harry wondered how anyone could ever manage to get anywhere. Harry groaned. He thought the zoo was crowded but he apparently hadn't seen anything yet.

His mind was still processing the new experience. _How the in the hell are we going to get through this?_

Hagrid stepped forward and the sea of people cleared a path for him instantly.

 _Ah, you just need to bring a Hagrid._ Harry nodded to himself.

"First stop is Gringotts!" Hagrid shouted to Harry over the noise. "Wizarding bank. Safest place yeh'll ever find, well – outside of 'ogwarts, mind."

Harry felt a pang of anxiety.

"But… I haven't any money, Hagrid!"

The huge man stopped abruptly and turned to look him with incredulity. "Well, of course yeh do! Yeh don't think yer parents left yeh with nothing now, do yeh?"

Hagrid noticed his expression and growled softly. "Dursleys. Follow me, 'arry."

Harry hurried to keep up with the giant who was making his way down the street much faster than Harry expected of such a large man. He caught snippets of Hagrid's mumbling about 'fat lumps' and 'horsey hags'.

They make their way past a bunch of interesting shops, but Harry wasn't able to pay as much attention as he would have liked. Having someone like Hagrid part the crowds of people was useful, but Hagrid's size was enough to attract plenty of annoyed or curious stares. Harry felt more uneasy as yet another person craned their neck to get a glimpse at the huge man and his follower. He pulled the woolen brim of his hat lower over his forehead.

Finally, Harry spotted what had to be their destination. As they got closer, he saw a tall and imposing white marble building with thick bronze doors. They were open wide and the metal was glowing elegantly in the sunlight. The huge columns that were built into the sides of the building made it seem powerful and the long wide steps leading up to doors were crafted with careful precision. Harry was surprised to see two smartly-dressed yet odd-looking beings standing guard outside.

"Looks nice, don't it?" Hagrid said. "Goblin-run, yeh know. Never been robbed in all its years. They use dragons so you'd 'ave to be bloody barmy to break in. Like I said, only 'ogwarts 'as a better reputation fer security."

While Harry was getting over the fact that dragons were real, they made their up the steps through the huge bronze doors a – goblin bowed stiffly to them as they walked through.

 _Goblins and dragons._ Harry mulled them over in his head. _Do trolls mind the tellers then?_

When they entered, they were met with another pair of doors, silver this time, and two more suited goblins standing guard. There were words inscribed on the door, clearly meant to strike fear into all the customers.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed,_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors,_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware,_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry almost rolled his eyes at the pretentiously-worded poem, but refrained as he noticed the goblins' sharp-looking teeth.

 _Why not just say 'Thieves will be roasted by dragon fire,' and be done with it?_ He wondered.

The goblins must have decided they got the message and bowed deeply before opening the door. Hagrid and Harry stepped past them and into the hall. It was huge, ornate, and everything from the floor to the counters was made of marble. Harry came to the conclusion that the goblins got a discount on the material. Silver chandeliers hung from the cavernous ceiling and there were tons of doors leading off somewhere. All the goblins running around and bustling through doors with stacks of paper reminded Harry of an ant colony.

He stopped gawking and hurried to catch up with Hagrid who already walked up to one particularly grumpy-looking goblin sitting behind one of the teller booths. Skidding to a stop behind the giant, Harry caught his breath and listened quietly.

"Little 'arry needs to visit his vault." Hagrid declared.

The goblin sneered. "'Little Harry' will need his key, if he wishes to do so." His face was the epitome of boredom and he sounded extremely unimpressed.

"Oh, right!" Hagrid blushed because he forgot to have it ready and began rummaging through his large pockets. The goblin's eyes flashed dangerously as Hagrid placed some foul-smelling dog biscuits onto his accounting book. They looked a bit damp and the goblin curled his lip.

"There's the wee bugger!"

Hagrid held up a golden key that looked hilariously small in his gigantic hands. The goblin gingerly slid the dog biscuits off his book with a fancy-looking pen and took the key in his long fingers.

"It is genuine." He said after examining it with squinted eyes. The goblin looked somewhat disappointed.

This time Hagrid pulled out a sealed envelope.

"There's also this letter from Dumbledore," he whispered and paused for emphasis. "About the… thing in vault seven hundred and-"

"Let me see it." The goblin cut Hagrid off with a snap of teeth. He did not look bored anymore. He took out the letter and read it quickly. Harry guessed it must be very important if it caused the goblin to react so strongly.

"I see," he said with a slight frown. "You shall be escorted to both vaults shortly."

One long slender finger moved to the right and pushed a button next to his seat. A few moments later one of the doors closest to the teller opened and another goblin scurried out. The teller snapped his fingers once and handed the key to the new goblin. The second goblin put it in his pocket and bowed to Harry and Hagrid, introducing himself as Griphook. He swept his hand to the side and told them to follow him.

Hagrid and Harry turned to leave with Griphook, when the grumpy goblin cleared his throat loudly. Three heads turned to see narrowed eyes and a long finger pointing down at the counter.

"Woops." Hagrid said and he stuffed the dog biscuits back in his pocket.

Griphook led them through a gigantic door at the back of the long room and they made their way down a long passage lined with flickering torches. The walls were made of a jagged, dark-gray stone and Harry noted the goblins had used something other than marble.

 _They probably ran out of it._

The passage opened up and led to a wide ledge that had tracks of some sort fixed to the side. Griphook let out a piercing whistle and what appeared to be a modified mine cart slowed to a stop in front of them.

The trio entered the cart and sat down on the leather seats with Griphook in front. Just as Harry finished buckling the seat belt around his waist, the metal craft lurched forward and sped rapidly down into the depths. He nearly lost his hat to the wind and when he settled back in his seat, Harry was pretty sure that Hagrid lost his breakfast off the side when Griphook wasn't looking. He hoped there was nobody walking around underneath. The underground caves looked cool and he spotted a spray of dragon fire off in the distance. Harry was glad he was safe in the cart and briefly wondered if anyone was _'paying most dearly in their turn'_ for disturbing the beast.

The cart stopped suddenly and Harry was glad to be strapped in. Griphook took out Harry's key and after fitting it into a small keyhole, unlocked the iron vault door that was beside them. As the door opened slowly inwards, Harry's eyes bulged out of his head.

Hagrid had told him his parents left him money, but he either didn't know or forgot to mention just how much was in there. Harry could tell he was rich, it was obvious even to someone like him who had never handled money. He saw a hoard of coins he figured even Smaug would have been jealous of.

 _No wonder dragons guard this place._ Harry thought.

"Vault 687," Griphook declared formally.

The goblin took a small sack from his pocket and handed it out to Harry. "Each of our vault holders is entitled to one of our official client pouches, courtesy of Gringotts. It has been charmed to be weightless, bottomless, resistant to detection, summoning, vanishing, or switching spells, and will hold only wizarding currency. We remind you that Gringotts is not responsible for any theft or misplacement of the pouch on your part, when it is in your possession. The replacement fee is 15 galleons."

Harry took the small leather bag and thanked the goblin, wondering why it cost 15 ships to replace the bag. He exited the cart and began shoving gold, silver, and bronze coins into the pouch. Hagrid told him the gold ones were called 'galleons', the silver ones 'sickles' and the bronze ones 'knuts'. Harry thought the weird names wizards came up with for common things were kind of 'nuts' but he kept that to himself. Harry decided to take a lot of each just in case his school supplies were expensive. He had no idea how magical prices worked. When he was satisfied with the amount, he made his way back to his seat beside Hagrid on the cart. The vault door started closing as soon as his body had crossed the threshold, and within moments the cart sped away again.

The tunnel got darker the deeper they went so Harry closed his eyes, kept his hands firmly on his hat, and enjoyed the feeling of the cold wind on his face. He had never been on a roller coaster before, and figured this was the closest he was ever going to get. The cart stopped again and Hagrid groaned. Harry opened his eyes and looked at what Griphook proclaimed to be vault 713. The door was made of a glittery ebony-black metal, and had no visible keyhole. Griphook instead creepily stroked the surface of it with one finger and it melted away at his caress. The goblin said nothing to the two awestruck faces in the cart, most likely wanting to keep the doors' secret confidential.

Surprisingly, there was nothing as mysterious or flashy within the vault. Hagrid unbuckled his seat and took the tiny innocuous-looking package between his large fingers, and put it in one of his pockets. Harry had no idea how such a miniature box could be worth all this effort.

 _Hopefully Dumbledore's not involved in any illegal drug organizations_. Harry remembered his Uncle talking about such things when they came on the news before. The perpetrators went to some extreme lengths to keep their stashes hidden. Harry suddenly wondered what kind of drugs wizards would use and if that's where they got those weird names from.

After riding back up to the surface and thanking Griphook for his time, Harry and Hagrid finally made their way back into the bustling street.

"Still got yer 'ogwarts letter, 'arry?" Hagrid asked.

Harry blushed.

"Oh, uh – no… sorry," he said. "I um, left it on my bed."

Truthfully, he had hidden it in case his relatives tried to find the original one during their 'No Funny Business in This House' craze. Harry figured Hagrid didn't need to know the exact circumstances.

"Not ter worry," the giant rummaged through his coat pockets again and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Got the list right 'ere!"

This Professor McGonagall wasn't taking any chances apparently. She had given Hagrid the list just in case. She probably had experience with excitable students and her co-worker's tendency to sometimes forget things.

After he consulted the list Hagrid informed Harry he'd be taking him to a clothing store called Madam Malkin's. It was the closest and Harry would be able to get good quality school robes.

"The fitting process takes quite a bit 'o time, unfortunately," Hagrid said to Harry. "While yer getting all fitted up, I think I'll make a trip to the apothecary and get the ingredients you need fer potions class. Well – an' maybe somethin' fer motion sickness."

"Sounds good, Hagrid. "Harry assured him.

Harry tried to give him some money from his pouch but Hagrid refused adamantly. He ran off before Harry could remind him he had already bought breakfast and rented him a room.

Sighing, Harry went to the front door of Madam Malkin's. He entered the small shop and while looking around at all the different robes, was spotted by Madam Malkin herself. He inwardly dreaded having to be measured and touched for however long it took but forced himself to smile politely at her anyways.

"Hogwarts?" she asked. "Got another young man who's going there, getting fitted, too." Harry nodded, hoping they had separate fitting rooms. At his old school, his classmates ignored his attempts at friendship and didn't care about what Dudley and his bullies did to Harry at recess unless it involved themselves. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes and waste time with his new peers. Harry was going to avoid interaction with them as much as possible

Harry frowned when Madam Malkin led him to the back of the shop and had him stand on a stool beside the other boy. He had a pale face, blonde hair that looked almost white, and a very haughty expression on his face. An assistant was fussing over him and he scrunched his face at Harry's hat and scruffy clothes.

 _Please don't talk, please don't talk._ Harry chanted in his mind as he got up on the stool.

"Hello," the boy said immediately, and Harry sighed internally. "You're Hogwarts as well, then?"

Madam Malkin draped a black robe over him and set to work.

"Mmhmm," was all Harry said. He hoped the boy would get the message.

He didn't. "Father's getting my books next door, and Mother's at Ollivander's looking for the best wands," He paused to adjust his overly-gelled hair and continued drawling on. "Once they're finished, I'll force them to get me a racing broom. First years can't have one because of some idiotic rule but I simply _must_."

 _Good for you. I still don't care_ , thought Harry. It seems he just met the wizarding equivalent of Dudley. _How long is this going to take again?_

"Have you got one yet?"

Harry shook his head.

"Do you even play Quidditch at all?"

Harry shook his head some more and wondered when the boy would decide to stop talking. _What the heck is Quidditch?_

"Well, I do. Father and Mother expect me to play for my house. They say it would be dishonorable if I don't and I have to agree. What house will you be going to?"

Harry cursed inwardly. He'd have to respond with words for this one. He hadn't heard about any 'houses' but he most definitely didn't want to discuss them with this boy.

"I don't know." He said as neutrally as he could manage.

"Ah, well, no one really does for sure until we get there, but I'll be Slytherin. I have to keep up the family tradition, you understand. Ravenclaw would be acceptable but imagine getting stuck in Hufflepuff. If it were me, I think I'd –"

The boy spotted a familiar giant outside the window.

"Would you look at that!" He exclaimed.

"Mm-hmm" Harry said again. He had looked at Hagrid plenty today.

"Do you know him? He's grinning at you." The boy watched Hagrid as he held up the packages and parcels in his arms.

"His name is Hagrid," Harry had resigned himself to the fact he would have to actively participate in this 'conversation'. "He's been helping me buy my school supplies."

"Oh yes," the boy nodded. "I heard from Father that he was some sort of servant."

"His job," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Is to keep the grounds and keys at Hogwarts."

"Exactly. Father says he's so poor that he has to live on the grounds in a wooden hut like a savage. He's a drunk who can't even do magic. Did you know he was expelled from Hogwarts?"

"No." Harry said. He wanted to punch this brat in his arrogant little face.

"Did your parents hire him? He looks like could use the money." The boy sneered at Hagrid's clothes.

"They're dead actually, so no," Harry said coldly. "And I asked Hagrid for his help."

"Oh, sorry," Harry could tell he wasn't. "They were… our kind I hope?"

"My mother was a witch and my dad was a wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I can't believe they let the other sort attend. They don't know anything about our society. I think only the old and pure wizarding families should be allowed don't you? What's your -?"

"Well, you're all done then!" Madam Malkin had saved Harry from his torture. Harry decided she would get a very nice tip. He didn't know how much longer he could've lasted with this bigoted nancy boy.

"Ah, see you on the train, maybe." The boy said haughtily.

Harry almost fell off the stool. He would have to sit on a train for who knows how long with kids like him? Harry promised himself to do everything he possibly could to avoid that.

Harry paid the woman at the counter and she gave him a purple bag with his purchases. She smiled brightly and gave him a coupon for his next visit when he told her to keep the change for providing 'brilliant service'.

Hagrid waved to him when he exited the shop and showed him the bags he brought. The giant had apparently decided to go out of his way and buy everything on Harry's list except for a trunk and a wand. Harry tried to pay him back for the purchases, but Hagrid refused. "This makes up for the cake." He said smiling. "I was going to get ice cream but figured this'd be better."

Harry thought that was incredibly nice of him, but frowned sourly when he remembered what the blond boy had said about his friend earlier. Hagrid noticed.

"What's wrong, 'arry?" Hagrid's smile wavered.

"It's not you, Hagrid! You've been amazing," Harry was quick to reassure him. "There was this… boy, who was getting fitted next to me. He made fun of you and went on about Hogwarts' houses and Quidditch and pure wizarding families."

"Ah," Hagrid's face darkened. "Blonde 'air, looks like a right ponce?"

Harry nodded.

Hagrid led Harry down the street away from the shop.

"That musta been a Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy's son, I'll bet."

Hagrid looked around the street. It was later in the afternoon now and less busy but there were still a fair amount of people. No one was listening to their conversation, yet he whispered to Harry anyway.

"The Malfoys are a dark family. 'Is father worked fer You-Know-Who. Got off the charges by saying 'e was Imperiused."

"One of the Unforgivables." Harry remembered.

"That's right," Hagrid said, nodding. "Quidditch is the Wizarding World's sport. It's like… American football but you play it on broomsticks. Yeh'll learn more at school so don't worry abou' it."

They stopped in front of a store that sold trunks, different furniture, and household items.

"The houses are what yeh'll get sorted into when yeh first reach the school. There's four: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, an' Slytherin. People say the Hufflepuffs are a bunch of bumblers but at least they aren't Slytherin's."

The giant shook his head. "You-Know-Who's house, it was. A lot 'o 'is followers went there, too. Never been a bad witch or wizard who wasn't in Slytherin."

So Voldemort went to Hogwarts and was in Slytherin. Harry wasn't really surprised to hear that as he must've been a child at some point. Slytherin certainly didn't sound very appealing.

"An' about the pureblood family nonsense," he said, face stormy. "Yer mother was a muggleborn an' she turned out ruddy brilliant. Don't forget that, 'arry." He opened the door to the shop and held it open for Harry.

"I won't." Harry promised and went inside.

The shop smelled of freshly-cut wood and was much larger on the inside then it appeared outside. Long shelves of knick-knacks covered the front of the shop and craning his head allowed Harry to see piles of trunks at the back. Hagrid sat down on a bench beside the front door to wait with the bags. He didn't mind if Harry took some time deciding which trunk to buy. He would need it for seven years at least and it wouldn't do to buy one he wasn't satisfied with.

Harry walked to the back and began browsing. They were all different shapes and sizes and made of various sleekly-polished woods, leathers, and metals. A dark green trunk with golden fastenings caught his eye. Harry felt the cold and smooth leather and glanced for the price tag.

"Nice hat," Harry spun around to see a man leaning on the shelf behind him. He was stroking a black goatee while smoking from a dark brown pipe that smelled strongly of tobacco. "And you've got good taste. That's one of my favourite models."

"Thanks." Harry said nervously. He was slightly relieved to see it was a person who talked to him and not a magic trunk. "It looks well-made."

The man brushed some sawdust off his shirt. "It is indeed. This one and the others in this section are outfitted with some high-end upgrades, therefore they're quite expensive. I do hope you brought a good bit of coin."

"You have no idea," Harry mumbled to himself. "What can trunks do other than hold clothes and stuff?"

"Muggle-raised, eh? Well, some trunks come with charms to perform more tasks than an average one, such as self-shrinking, feather-weight, only opened by your touch, and so on. These ones here are like that but also have a surprise inside."

He smiled and opened the trunk that Harry had been eyeing. Harry peered inside and saw there wasn't a normal trunk interior, but an empty space with a ladder stretching downwards. It was too deep to see the bottom; the ladder disappeared into darkness.

"Smashing, isn't it?" the man said proudly. "The room down there has a bedroom with a large closet, bathroom, tiny kitchen equipped with a fridge and sink, charms for light and temperature adjustment, and even comes with a cedar table and bookshelf." He closed the lid, flicked a switch near the handle, and opened it again. Now Harry saw the velvet-lined inside of the trunk he expected to see.

"It also has your standard trunk form, as you can see." He winked at Harry and closed the trunk lid. "As I said, it's frightfully expensive and you need to pay a monthly fee to the trunk for the use of its charms, so let me show you the more affordable options."

He started to make his way down the aisle, when Harry spoke up.

"I'll take it."

The shop keeper stopped moving and tilted his to the side slightly. He turned around to face Harry with an amused expression on his face. He puffed on his pipe and blew out a single smoke ring. Harry dubbed him Mister Smokes in his mind. "You're having me on."

"Not at all." Harry said with a sardonic smile. "What's it cost?"

The man chuckled, "Try six hundred galleons for the base cost- and the monthly fee depends on how much you use it."

Harry's eyes widened. That was a lot of money. Much more than he had in his Gringott's pouch.

The man saw his expression and smiled knowingly. "See? There's some more reasonably-priced ones this way. I have a –"

"Charge it to my vault then." Harry interrupted him. "You can do that, right?"

"Yes…" The man nodded slowly and frowned slightly. "You have to sign a form that I forward to the goblins, though. You are serious, aren't you?"

Harry nodded and took the trunk off of the shelf, it was light as promised.

"Completely." He suddenly stopped and turned back to Mister Smokes.

"Wait, what did you mean by pay to the _trunk_?"

Mister Smokes smirked. "You'll get a bill and drop the money in the chute. It's in the living room area. Easier than coming in to Diagon Alley every month, hm? "

Harry followed Mister Smokes to the front register. He gave Harry a blue-feathered quill and an official-looking form to sign. When Mister Smokes saw the signature written in blue ink he did a double-take and dropped his pipe.

"Harry Potter!" He looked to Harry's forehead but it was covered by the woolen hat.

Harry sighed and pulled it up to reveal the famous scar. Mister Smokes whistled and then smirked as a lightbulb went off in his head.

"How about that," he said and wiggled his eyebrows. "Tell you what, how about I knock off the monthly fee in exchange for allowing me to advertise the fact that you shopped here?"

Harry smirked right back and pointed behind him.

"Throw in one of those and you got a deal."

A display behind Mister Smokes held some expertly-crafted strips of leather. Even without a sign, Harry could tell they were unmistakably a wand holster. Mister Smokes raised an eyebrow and took one from the display. The holster looked sleek and was made of the same dark green leather as the trunk. He handed it to Harry who wasted no time in pulling up his sleeve and strapping it on his forearm.

He held out his hand to the man behind the counter. Mister Smokes shook it easily.

 _Being a famous wizarding icon does have its advantages_ , Harry thought.

Harry left the shop with a smile and Hagrid was flabbergasted when he gathered all of the purchases and disappeared down the ladder of his new trunk. He emerged a few seconds later and expertly locked it up, shrunk it, and placed it in the pocket with his Gringott's pouch. He noticed Hagrid was staring at him, flabbergasted.

"What?" said Harry.

Hagrid then attempted to explain to the raven-haired boy the importance of proper money management. They talked and laughed as they made their way down the street to the place Harry had been anticipating the most.

They arrived at Ollivanders and Hagrid patted Harry on the back.

"Um… well er, I gotta go… do somethin' quick, 'arry," He said, slowly backing away and looking over his shoulder down the street. "Yeh can go ahead and grab yer wand, alrigh'?"

Harry looked at his school list and bit his lip, wondering if they had missed something.

He looked up and Hagrid was already far down the street. Harry chuckled. He turned to face the ramshackle store. Golden letters covered the sign over the oaken door, looking like they had seen better days - 100 years ago. Flaky and peeling, they read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C_. Harry was surprised the building was still standing.

 _Oh wait. It's 'magic',_ he thought. Not wanting to waste any time, he turned the brass handle and opened the door to Ollivanders. A bell above the door dinged his entrance into the small, dusty shop. It appeared deserted. There were rows upon rows of thin boxes piled on the shelves behind the counter, some piles looking seconds away from toppling over. Harry considered jangling the bell again when an ancient, frail-looking man stepped out the darkness between two of the shelves. He passed the counter and paused in front of Harry.

"Good afternoon." He said gently, staring at Harry closely with his pale silver eyes. Harry fidgeted under his intense gaze.

"You must be Ollivander," Harry said awkwardly, after a few seconds of awkward, silent staring. "Nice to meet you. I'm er, here for a wand."

"Indeed," Ollivander said slowly. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mister Potter."

Harry felt his forehead. The hat was still hiding his scar, so how did he know who Harry was?

Ollivander smiled. "You had the right idea, but you still have your mother's eyes, Mister Potter. "

His smile faded and the man seemed to stare at nothing. "I remember like it was only yesterday, when she stood right where you are now to buy her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches. Swishy, made of willow, and perfect for charms."

"Mahogany was what your father favoured, however. Eleven inches. Pliable, and quite powerful. It was excellent for transfigurations and while I said your father favoured it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard."

Ollivander glanced at Harry's forehead, presumably looking for the scar. Thankfully, he respected Harry's privacy and didn't say anything about it.

"Unfortunately, I sold the wand to the wizard that – visited you on Halloween night ten years ago," Ollivander looked sad and angry that one of his creations had been used for such a horrible purpose. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Immensely powerful, and had I'd known what it would do in the wrong hands…"

He trailed off and clapped his hands together.

"Well, enough about that. To business. Which is your wand arm, Mister Potter?"

"Oh, well, I'm right handed, sir." Harry lifted his right arm a little.

Ollivander nodded. "Hold it straight out, if you please." Harry did so. The old man snapped his fingers and a tape measure flew to his side. It unfurled itself and started measuring nearly every surface and angle of Harry's arm.

"You should know, every wand needs a powerful magical core to function. I use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. They are readily available materials, and much more potent than what other wandmakers use. I've been in business for quite a long while so I know what I'm talking about when I say this."

Harry did not doubt that he did. A shop that was around since 382 B.C was no joke.

"Each wand is as unique as the animals the core comes from. No two will ever be exactly alike. Wands have certain behaviours you know, and as a result you won't ever get such good results with another witch or wizard's wand."

He snapped his fingers again and the tape measure flew back to the front desk. He came forward with one of the opened boxes and presented Harry with a wand.

"Give it a slight wave, Mister Potter," he said. "Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Flexible but strong."

Harry waved it but it was quickly taken out from his hands and put back in its box.

"Another, if you please. Ebony and unicorn hair. Eight and a half inches long. Light and springy."

Harry waved it and a lamp hanging from the ceiling exploded into a million shards of glass. Thankfully, Ollivander must have had experiences with disasters before, as the pieces of glass turned into butterflies and did not reach them. Ollivander took the wand back again and contemplated it.

"I wonder..." he said thoughtfully. "I could let you try every wand in this shop, Mister Potter, but I have a distinct feeling they'll all fail."

Harry's face fell.

"Not to worry, my dear boy, give me more credit than that! I'll be right back."

Ollivander darted back into the dark space between the shelves and emerged a few moments later with another box. He opened the lid reverently and wordlessly held it out to Harry.

"It's rather unusual," Ollivander said. "As far as most combinations of wands go, at least. Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple."

A smile tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth. When would he ever be considered normal? He picked up the wand and his hand instantly felt warmth at the touch. Instinctively, he raised the wand over his head and brought it downwards in one fluid motion. Gold and green sparks shot out of it and bounced off the walls in the small shop, filling dark corners with light. Ollivander clapped his hands twice but didn't smile. He also did not look surprised like Harry did.

"Good show, Mister Potter. A very good show, indeed."

He took the wand gently from Harry's hands and placed it back into the thin brown box. Harry was sad to see it go as he felt the comfortable heat leave his fingers.

"Still, it's quite curious… so, so curious…" Ollivander went to the counter to wrap up Harry's wand.

"Why is it curious?" Harry asked. The man had said the wand was unusual, but surely every wand would get chosen by someone eventually.

"Remember the wand I mentioned earlier, made of yew?" Ollivander stared at Harry intently.

The man stopped wrapping and cleared his throat.

"The phoenix whose feather resides in your wand gave only one other to me. The reason why it is curious, Mister Potter, is because its brother gave you that scar."

Harry didn't know what to say to that so he just looked away and stared at the dusty floor on his left. His parents' killer was supposed to be gone, yet here he was butting into his life again. This was very troubling news and he had no idea what it meant.

"I think we should expect great things from you, Mister Potter," Ollivander said, finally. His face was expressionless but his voice sounded wary. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did terrible and disgusting things… but they were still considered great. Remember that."

Harry frowned. It sounded like a warning but why would Ollivander say something like that? Did he think having the same phoenix feather as Voldemort would make him a murderer too? Getting a wand was supposed to be fun but all Harry felt was anxiety. Also, how many silly acronyms for Voldemort were there? He paid Ollivander 7 galleons and took the box in his hands. The old wandmaker bowed once, and disappeared into the darkness.

When Harry exited the shop he noticed it was very late in the evening. The sun was getting close to setting and the alley was colder. There were only a few stragglers now. He strapped his new wand into the leather holster on his forearm under his long shirt sleeve. The familiar warmth was back. He tossed the box into a trash can. When he looked up, he spotted Hagrid making his way towards him – and he wasn't alone. He was carrying a cage with a beautiful snowy white owl perched inside.

"'Arry!" he waved his huge hand In Harry's direction. "I 'ope yeh weren't waiting long. Find yer wand?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled and waved back as the giant closed the distance between them. "Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches and apparently supple."

"Blimey. Phoenix feathers aren't too common." Hagrid looked impressed.

Harry nodded and scratched his head. He still wasn't feeling like talking too much about 'the brother of the wand who gave him his scar', so he changed the subject.

"That's a very pretty owl, Hagrid. Did you not have one at home?"

"Nope," Hagrid grinned at him. "Well, I don't own one meself mind as I use the school ones but this girl's all yers, 'arry. 'Appy Birthday!"

Hagrid held out the cage to a speechless Harry. He took it hesitantly and looked at the snowy owl inside.

"Hoot," was all she said. Her owlish eyes stared into his own.

It felt like too much. Hagrid had baked him a cake, rescued him from the Dursleys, asked him if they were abusive, rented a room for him at the Leaky Cauldron, bought him breakfast, took him to Gringott's, bought most of his supplies for him, and now he had given him his very first birthday present. All Harry ever wanted was someone to tell him where to go to get his school things. He had expected to be given a student loan (he heard Uncle Vernon mention it when discussing Dudley's future college-as if that would ever happen), a list of directions yet do everything else himself. Hagrid had done so much more than he needed to and Harry found himself overwhelmed.

"Yeh like 'er, right?" Hagrid asked slightly anxiously. "She flew down ter me as soon I walked in an' wouldn't budge. Owner said she was there fer a long time an' 'e'd never seen 'er come ter anyone else."

"Hagrid, she's brilliant." Harry beamed up at the huge man. "You – you have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

The giant smiled widely and patted his shoulder. "It's jes a present 'arry, but yer very welcome."

Suddenly his hand disappeared into the coat. Hagrid pulled out a pocket watch. He looked at it, then the sky.

"Blimey, look at the time! I got ter check in with Professor Dumbledore, an' yeh gotta get back 'ome. If those Dursleys try anything, send yer owl ter me. Post owls can find nearly anyone, they can."

He rummaged in his pockets for a minute and pulled out a blue piece of paper. "There it is! Yeh also need a ticket fer the school train, 'o course. See yeh at school, 'arry."

"Bye Hagrid!" Harry said. "Thanks for everything."

The giant waved and lumbered out of sight. Harry stood where he was and rubbed his chin as he thought. Moments later, his eyes flashed mischievously and he too started to make his way down the cobblestone street.

"The Dursleys won't be able to try anything if I'm not there." Harry cackled quietly to himself. He wasn't as quiet as he apparently thought, as a witch near him started walking faster.

Harry soon stood at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. It opened up when he got close to it and he walked through the pathetic-looking courtyard, making sure to avoid a pair of crusty underpants that wasn't there that morning.

 _I don't even want to know…_ Harry scrunched his nose, as he walked by. _Maybe it's the same person who lost the thong._

Harry made his way into the pub. It was quite loud and fairly packed with the late-night drinking crowd. Harry double-checked that his hat still covered his scar as he spotted the barman. Tom seemed like a decent enough man but Harry didn't trust him to keep quiet about his real identity. It would be awful if everyone in the pub turned and gawked at him like idiots for the amount of time Harry planned on staying here. This was one time he really wished he wasn't a celebrity to these people.

"Excuse me, sir," Harry said quietly. "But I'd like to keep staying in the room Hagrid booked for me. I can pay you until the first of September."

Harry pulled out twenty gold galleons from his pouch and placed them on the counter. Tom, who was watching him now, put the glass he was wiping back on its shelf. With raised eyebrows, he leaned forward on the wooden surface and crossed his fingers.

"That's a lot more than I'd charge a kid like you for a month." Tom said.

"I know."

"Hmm," Tom said thoughtfully.

He picked one of the galleons up and spun it on the counter. Harry watched it rotate rapidly for a few seconds before Tom's hand smacked down on it swiftly, stopping its motions and covering the coin. He glanced up at Harry with narrowed eyes and a downright scary expression on his face.

"Then what're you playing at?"

Harry gulped. The man had seemed unassuming at first, but he should have known someone like him would deal with all sorts of dangerous people passing through his pub. It appeared he wasn't the only person here with trust issues.

"You don't ask for my name," Harry managed without stuttering. He was not planning on double-crossing Tom any time soon, that's for sure.

Tom said nothing but pulled out two objects from underneath the bar table. A clove of garlic and what looked like a spoon made of solid silver.

"Touch them." He ordered.

Harry thought it an odd request but did so and nothing weird happened. Tom studied Harry intently for a few seconds before gathering up the coins from the bar counter. He turned around and put them in a small drawer.

"Breakfast is served between 7 and 8 in the morning, and dinner's at 6," Tom said and looked over his shoulder. "I don't want any trouble."

Harry nodded and made his way up the stairs, ignoring the curious glances of some of the patrons. He locked the door behind him and placed the owl's cage on the bed.

Harry un-shrunk his trunk and placed it at the foot of his bed. He opened it up and took the cage with him down the ladder into the room below.

"Woah." Harry said as he looked around more closely. The owl clicked her beak.

When Harry entered before, he didn't have time to fully appreciate how awesome his trunk really was. The trunk was definitely worth the money as he basically had a small apartment at his beck and call. The wooden table and bookshelf were glistening, the kitchen was made of… marble, and the walls looked like they were made of the fabric that lined the trunk in its regular form. The loo would be especially nice to have as that would save him from needing to use the Leaky Cauldron's public one. Based on what he saw in the courtyard he definitely did not want to have to go in there.

Harry left the cage on the wooden table next to the parcels and bags he had placed earlier. He decided he would organize everything later. Harry opened his owl's cage and pet her soft feathers. She nipped his hand affectionately, flew to the top of the bookshelf, and closed her eyes.

 _That's a good idea_. Harry thought as he watched his owl. _But first I need to find you a good name._

Harry rummaged through the bags and eventually found his history book. He said goodnight to the owl and made his way into the bedroom to find her a name before bed.


End file.
